


Twice Upon A Mattress

by ohthewhomanity



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017), Once Upon a Mattress - Rodgers/Barer/Fuller/Thompson
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/F, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Princes & Princesses, cannibalism mention, comedic source material, creepy cursed dolls, royalty tests, too many mattresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2020-10-04 07:22:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohthewhomanity/pseuds/ohthewhomanity
Summary: “That’s my kingdom you’re talking about, and it all actually happened – the domineering queen, the royalty test, the pea under the mattress, all that jazz – but that pretty ditty left out all the cool parts. The true story is full of dark magic, and climactic battles, and sacrifice in the name of true love!”Another fanfic based on a musical.





	1. Many Moons Ago

**Author's Note:**

> Posted for Weblena Week 2019 Day 28: Free Day! Nothing’s particularly shippy in this chapter, but it’s a promise for things to come.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the story begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xtckL6ovyVI

“_…for a princess is a delicate thing / delicate and dainty as a dragonfly’s wing / you can recognize a lady by her elegant air / but a genuine princess is exceedingly rare!_”

The minstrel brought his song to a close with a final melodic strum on his lute. The audience applauded politely, as tavern audiences go. No doubt they were interested in a rowdier song after such a soft ballad, and the minstrel set his fingers into the opening chord of a different melody accordingly.

“You got a nice voice, my friend, but you really should work on the story!” a voice piped up from the crowd.

That was not the kind of heckle that the minstrel expected, and his eyes scanned the crowd until he found the person who had spoken. It was a younger man, in a sharp blue traveling suit, at a table with various other solo travelers who happened to have found some company here. Someone had whispered to someone else earlier that this boy was a prince from a faraway kingdom, and he certainly had the confidence of one, but no one had yet asked him his name or lineage.

“That’s not the version of ‘the princess and the pea’ that I know,” the youth added.

“There are many versions of this story,” the minstrel said diplomatically. “I sing them all.”

“Yeah, sure, but none of the songs get it _right._” The young man stood. “I, on the other hand, happen to know the true story of the ‘princess and the pea.’”

“And how’s that?” someone shouted from across the tavern.

The young man grinned. “Because I was there! That’s my kingdom you’re talking about, and it all actually happened – the domineering queen, the royalty test, the pea under the mattress, all that jazz – but that pretty ditty left out all the _cool _parts. The true story is full of dark magic, and climactic battles, and sacrifice in the name of true love!”

The minstrel played a chord on his lute, trying to reclaim the stage and continue his show, but all eyes and ears were now paying attention elsewhere. The youth smirked, knowing full well that he now had the floor, and he hopped up onto a table.

“The place,” he said, holding his hands out in a dramatic frame, “the kingdom of Calisota! The time – five years after the rise of the evil sorceress queen, Magica de Spell…”


	2. An Opening For A Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W6ApvBMhib8

_“Now, the first thing you need to know is that the princess in the story wasn’t the _only _girl put to the test. Actually, she was one of thirteen girls who came to the castle hoping to become a bride…”_

“Are you ready for the next section of the test?” Black Heron held up the scroll with the metallic fingers of the gear-and-wire contraption that served as her right hand. It was a rhetorical question, of course; everyone in the castle courtyard knew that the contestant didn’t have a choice in the matter, not anymore. But Princess Violet Sabrewing’s head was held high and her hands folded in front of her, her gaze somewhere above the gathered crowd of members of the royal court.

“I am ready,” she said.

On a dais behind where Black Heron stood, a woman in long robes so dark purple they were nearly black lounged on an ornate golden throne. Queen Magica de Spell’s yellow eyes were locked on the princess, her green-skinned fingers fiddling with the end of her purple-gemmed scepter. At her feet sat another girl – dressed much too casually for what was so clearly a formal occasion, her chin in her hand. Though everyone else in the courtyard stood at rapt attention, she seemed to be thoroughly bored with the proceedings.

“You’ve proven your knowledge of the arcane,” said Black Heron, “but a true princess’s intelligence goes beyond the theoretical and into the practical. This next section of the royalty test is a language exam. You will reply to me in the appropriate language to demonstrate your comprehension. Do you understand?”

Violet nodded. “I do.”

Black Heron read from the scroll: “_Pedin i phith in aníron, a nin ú-cheniog._”

Several members of the audience glanced at each other nervously. Violet, however, smiled.

“_Am man theled?_” she said._ “Êl síla erin lû e-govaded 'wîn._”

Heron blinked, surprised, and proceeded to the next language. “_'Awvea ultxari oengeyä, Nawma Sa'nok lrrtok siveiyi._”

“_Oel ngati kameie_,” said Violet. “_Makto ko._”

Heron scowled. “_Hash yer dothrae chek asshekh?_”

“_Anha dothrak check asshekh,_” Violet replied smoothly.

As Heron’s expression darkened further, the tension in the courtyard began to shift into excitement. Even the girl seated at the foot of the throne turned her head to look at Violet intently, her eyes peeking out from under a lock of pink hair.

At the back of the crowd, one brown-haired woman clasped her gloved hands together eagerly.

“Twelfth time’s the charm,” Gandra Dee whispered. “You got this, girl, go get her!”

Black Heron rolled the scroll to a new page. She paused for a moment to look at the words before speaking:

“_‘arlogh Qoylu’pu?_”

Violet hesitated.

The room held its breath.

A tiny smirk formed at the edge of Heron’s mouth. “_‘arlogh Qoylu’pu?_” she said again.

“I… Uh…” Violet stammered.

“Come on, you can do it, you _have _to do it,” Gandra muttered under her breath. “Come on, please…”

But Violet said nothing. She turned her head to look at the pink-haired girl seated on the floor. Before they could make eye contact, Lena had turned away again, her face blank and apathetic.

Magica began to laugh. “Too bad, my dear, too bad!” she said, and though no one dared make a sound, the room let out a silent collective groan as the sorceress queen stood. “You do show a certain aptitude, but as for the true brilliance of royalty – I’m afraid not!

“Remember all,” she said, making a sweeping gesture at the crowd, “I will only have the best for my Lena. Blood will tell! And as for your blood, little Violet – it didn’t tell us quite enough!”

Violet picked up her skirts and ran for it, heading towards the crowd of nobles. Before she could reach them, Magica held out her scepter, pointing it at Violet’s back. A bolt of purple lightning shot out from the gem at the end of the scepter, colliding with Violet in a flash – and when the purple light cleared, there was only a little gray hummingbird doll on the floor, wearing a miniature version of Violet’s dress and headband.

Black Heron grinned viciously, rolling up the scroll. The crowd shrank away from the doll fearfully. Behind them all, Gandra made a silent, unnoticed exit, shaking her head.

Magica snapped her fingers. The doll levitated, floating back across the courtyard and towards Lena.

“A new toy for your room, Lena dear?” the queen purred, magically nudging the doll into Lena’s face. Lena didn’t react, her eyes on the floor.

Magica tutted. “There’s just no pleasing some people. Fine, I’ll put her with the others.”

The doll floated up to the top of the courtyard wall and landed in a seated position at the end of a long row of dolls. There were now twelve of them up there, twelve princesses who had come to the castle but for one reason or another were found to be unsuitable, their cloth-and-button eyes staring blankly into the distance.

Magica snapped her fingers at Lena. “Give him to me. I want to gloat.”

Lena reached up to the collar of her sweater and pulled a chain out from under her shirt, passing the quadriamond necklace over to Magica. There was a coin, a dime, dangling from the end of the chain, and Magica giggled with glee as she held it between her fingers.

“Take a look, Scroogie,” she said, waving the dime around in front of her. “You conquered Plain Awful, you found the Last Crown of the Mongols, and you created the most affluent kingdom in all the lands – and look at your kingdom now, bent to my every whim! And my whim says that none of your people shall ever be married until my Lena’s led to the altar.”

The people all looked at each other, or at their feet, uncertain whether they had been dismissed and on the whole unwilling to risk leaving without a dismissal.

“Not that anyone would want to marry her, of course,” Magica said, tossing the coin up and down casually. “After all, it’s not like she’s _real._”

At that, Lena looked up.

“Can we go now?” she said in a very soft voice. “You’ve had your fun.”

Magica rolled her eyes, but she tossed the dime back at Lena, whose hands opened automatically to catch it.

“I’m always having fun,” she said. “I’ve earned it. Go on, do whatever your dark heart desires. When I need you, I’ll call.”

Lena stood, and the rest of the gathered courtiers took this as an excuse to exit as well, trying not to look like they were fleeing for their lives just as much as Violet had been. Putting the chain back around her neck, Lena left the courtyard in a different direction from everyone else. Magica remained, Black Heron at her side, standing before the outdoor throne and looking up at the collected dolls with a sinister grin.

In the sky above the dolls, a swirling vortex of shadows hung in the air, a constant veil between the sun and the kingdom. Nobody in Calisota had shed a real shadow in five years; their shadows were now all a part of the evil army gathered high above, swooping down to stop anyone who tried to leave the castle grounds, let alone the kingdom.

* * *

Lena walked down an empty hallway, the only other figure there a suit of armor standing against one of the walls.

As she passed by the armor, a voice came from its helmet:

“You know, you could at least _act _like you care about the princesses’ fate.”

Lena stopped, not looking at the armor. “And what good would it do them, if I acted like I cared about them?”

“Eh, probably nothing,” said the voice. “But you’re building a reputation in the castle of being pretty heartless.”

Lena huffed out a laugh. “Well I _am,_” she said, tapping a fist against her chest. “Knock knock, who’s there? Just a lump of shadow mush.”

The voice sighed.

“Look, we’ve got a problem,” it said. “Staff meeting?”

Lena looked up and down the hallway, checking that nobody, and no shadow either, was there to see.

“Sure, whatever,” she said.

A painting on the wall next to the suit of armor – depicting King Scrooge McDuck in his days of glory, scaling a mountain peak – pushed outward from the wall, swinging open like a door. Lena stepped inside, closing the secret passageway behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "arcane languages" used here are Elvish, Na’vi, Dothraki, and Klingon. Violet knows much more of them than I do.


	3. In A Little While

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the storyteller appears in the narrative and we establish some stakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_db6ME27QE0

_“As far as the world knew, the royal family of Calisota had been missing for five years, ever since Magica de Spell crowned herself queen and cast the kingdom into darkness. Many presumed them to be dead or otherwise lost. But the truth is, five members of the royal bloodline were still living in the castle! Magica herself knew about two of them. But the other three – well, we were a lot sneakier about it.”_

The secret passageway in the castle’s wall was made of stone, and completely dark once the painting swung shut behind Lena again. The lack of light was no issue for her; her darkvision extended nearly as far as her regular vision did, and she had other senses at her disposal besides. That was not the case, however, for the duck standing next to her in the darkness. He kept one hand flat against the wall as he and Lena walked through the narrow tunnel, years spent sneaking about these passages telling him where to go even though he couldn’t have told you the color of his sleeve just inches from his face.

Actually, Lena thought with a smirk, he _could_ have told you what color it was, because it was green. It was always green. He was, after all, Prince Llewelyn Duck of Castle McDuck – but she only called him that to get on his nerves. Everyone who cared called him Louie.

They turned a corner, and there was a light at the end of it, filtering through the crack above a doorway. Lena stepped forward and knocked on the door – two taps, a pause, and then another two.

The door opened. She and Louie stepped inside, and the door was quickly closed behind them again by another duck prince, dressed in red – Hubert, or Huey if Lena was feeling nice, though he and Dewey didn’t mind their full names nearly as much as their fellow triplet did.

Dewey was sitting on a little table at the side of the room, which was one of the only things to sit on in this tiny space. Next to him sat Little Lamp – an odd, miniature, metal lifeform whom everyone insisted was not magic but instead the result of something called _science, _but Lena wasn’t altogether convinced of this – the only source of light in the room. This should have meant that the people and the items in the room would be casting long shadows, except that everyone’s shadows were otherwise employed at the moment, and so not even the various salvaged treasures and artifacts piled around the edges of the room cast so much as a dark shape on the wall.

The only chair in the room was currently occupied by Gandra, one of the few other people who used these hidden passages. Fenton, a knight of the castle, knelt at her side. Both of them were looking at a pile of blankets in the center of the room, so Lena did, too.

She gaped. Then she laughed.

“For crying out loud,” she said. “You two just couldn’t keep it in your pants, now could you?”

There was an egg swaddled in the blanket pile.

“Like I said,” said Louie, gesturing at the egg. “We have a problem.”

Gandra scowled. “It’s not _our _fault that _her _aunt declared both extramarital relations _and _marriage itself illegal.”

Lena shrugged. “This isn’t exactly breaking news, but you guys are screwed. More screwed than usual. How long’s it been laid?”

“Around a week. Just before Princess Violet arrived.” Fenton ran a hand over his face and through his hair. “It’s – wonderful, and miraculous, and of course it ought to be the happiest time of my life, but, you know, it’s a problem.”

“Our egg isn’t a problem,” said Gandra. “It’s the regime that’s the problem.”

“Uh-huh.” Lena put her hands on her hips. “And given that I’m a byproduct of that regime, why am I here?”

“Tactical consulting,” said Huey. “Whatever we do next, we have to choose it carefully.”

“Yeah,” said Dewey, “we gotta look out for the newest member of the rebellion.”

“Some rebellion,” Lena said, looking around the room. Because this was all it was – three teenage princes, a lady, and a knight. And now, an egg.

“Well it goes without saying that if the queen finds out about this, she’ll find some worse hell to raise,” said Lena.

“Worse than she already has?” said Dewey.

“Trust me, Dewford, it can always get worse. Like whatever the shadow vortex will do to you if you try to sneak out of the castle with Junior here? That’ll be worse.”

“So we get rid of the shadow vortex,” said Gandra.

“How?” said Huey, at the same time as Lena scoffed, “You and what army?”

“Well that’s what _you’re _supposed to help us figure out,” said Gandra, shaking her head. “You know that witch’s strengths and weaknesses.”

“Sorceress, not witch,” Lena corrected. “And we’ve been over this already. Her strengths are ‘too many’ and her weaknesses are ‘none.’”

“We’ve been trying and failing to come up with a successful plan of attack for five years,” said Fenton, putting his hand on Gandra’s shoulder. “If we’re not careful, we’ll end up in the dungeon like the others, or worse. And then who will take care of our egg?”

“If we had the Gizmosuit –” Gandra began

“Well we don’t,” said Fenton. “So we have to work with what we have.”

“What we have is a sadistic despot who says no one can get married until Lena does,” said Dewey, “and then puts the candidates up to impossible tests to prove that she’s a ‘true princess,’ whatever the heck that means.”

“It means whatever she wants it to mean,” said Lena. “By her own internal logic.”

“Does she even _have _an internal logic?” said Louie.

“As hard as it is to imagine, yes, she does. Whatever laws she makes, she keeps to the letter.”

“And the law – the letter of it – bans children out of wedlock,” said Huey. “What if the egg _wasn’t _out of wedlock?”

“But it is,” said Fenton.

Huey held up a finger. “But once you’re married, it won’t be.”

It didn’t take long for comprehension to dawn around the room.

“Lena,” said Louie, “are you _certain_ Magica will keep her word about letting everyone else get married once someone passes her royalty test and marries you?”

Lena shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Once this is over, she’ll move on to some new scheme to make your lives miserable. Actually it wouldn’t surprise me if she gets bored with the whole thing a few princesses from now and gives it up early. Which would be great, because marriage? Not really my thing.”

“It’d better become your thing,” said Dewey, “for Fenton and Grandra’s sake.”

“I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do, Bluey,” said Lena. “Besides, there’s a whole lotta other things that have to happen before it comes to that. We need another princess, for starters, and frankly I’m surprised this last one showed up. Word has definitely spread about what happens to people who try to marry me.”

“I’ll find one,” said Fenton.

“But you can’t leave the castle,” said Huey.

“With permission from the queen, I can,” said Fenton.

“She’ll never give it,” said Lena.

“But I bet you know what to say to make her give it,” said Dewey. “Come on, Lena, help your friends out!”

Lena just held up her hands in an exaggerated shrug.

Friends? There was little point in considering any of them her friends. The boys were good for a laugh, sure, and in five whole years she hadn’t yet told Magica that they were not only still alive but living right under her nose, but that didn’t mean she _liked _them.

Fenton was, unfortunately, easy to like. He was intelligent, if a bit scatterbrained at times, and he was as tough as you would expect a knight to be. At the same time, he had a puppy-dog-eyes quality to him that made you want to take any sharp objects in the area and put them out of his reach.

Gandra was harder to like, but despite herself Lena had developed a certain amount of respect for her. Gandra Dee was what Lena thought she’d like to be, if she were a real person. There was a barely contained fire burning within Gandra, with a brilliance that kept Fenton running to keep up.

But they could never be friends, Lena was sure of that. At any moment, any one of them could be caught by her “aunt” and turned into a doll, or banished to a netherworld, or worse. Getting attached was not in her best interest.

Besides, the “rebellion” only kept her around because she had useful insights into Magica’s tactics, and she only attended these “staff meetings” because it was more interesting than wandering the castle alone, and none of that was particularly a basis for getting attached anyway.

“Once we have a princess, then we have to think about the test,” Huey was saying when Lena returned from her train of thought.

“The test won’t be fair,” said Louie, “it never is.”

“Maybe we could help her,” said Dewey. “If we find out what the test is beforehand –”

“That’s cheating,” said Fenton.

“Only if you’re caught,” said Louie.

“This is all so roundabout,” said Gandra. “Why can’t we just –”

“Shut up,” said Lena.

Gandra rounded on her. “Excuse me?! Just because you don’t –”

“_Shut up,_” Lena said again. Her eyes were not on Gandra, but on the door. “_Everybody quiet._”

And everybody was. They watched Lena as she stared at the closed door, standing stock-still. Gandra reached over and picked up the egg, holding it in her lap.

“Douse the light,” Lena said.

“Oh, no…” Huey muttered, but there was no point in arguing. Dewey grabbed Little Lamp and tossed him to Fenton, who buried him in the blanket pile. The room went completely dark.

“Nobody move,” Lena’s voice came out of the darkness. “Stay very, very still…”

Louie was sorely tempted to grab his khopesh from a nearby pile of treasure, but it wasn’t like that would do any good against whatever Lena had heard or felt or whatever word was right for the way she knew that something was coming. So he stood still, his back against the wall, doing his best to keep his breathing as quiet as possible, which was very hard to do, because your breathing never seemed so loud as it did when you were trying to be quiet.

Lena was standing right next to him. He couldn’t see her, of course, but he had that feeling that you get when someone is standing next to you in the darkness, the feeling of presence.

And then that feeling was suddenly gone, because so was Lena. Louie suppressed a shudder. He hated when she did that.

There was a hissing sound, coming from somewhere near the ceiling – the sinister whisper of a shadow. Another hiss joined it, spoke over it. They hissed back and forth for a few moments, and then all was silent again. Louie counted the seconds.

“Okay,” Lena finally said after he reached twenty-three. “You can turn the lights back on.”

Louie heard Fenton fumbling with the blankets, and then Little Lamp emerged, his arms crossed with annoyance but not otherwise complaining about his treatment. Lena was now sitting on the table next to Dewey, who jerked away with a startled shout from her sudden appearance, falling to the floor.

“Do you _have _to do that?!” he said.

“You’re welcome,” said Lena. “Fortunately for you all, Launchpad’s shadow isn’t any brighter than he is.”

Huey took Little Lamp from Fenton, his face very pale in the lamplight. For some people, not even living in almost constant darkness for years was enough to kick the fear of it.

Gandra hugged the egg before placing it back in its blanket nest.

“That was too close,” she said. “Fenton, we can’t raise a child here. Not like this.”

Fenton stood. “Then we need a new princess. Now. Today.”

“Lena?” Louie prompted.

Lena rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll take you to the queen, see what I can say. It’s not like I have anything better to do. But she won’t just let you wander the world. You need a concrete plan to present to her. Exactly where are you going to find this princess who will pass her test?”

Louie smirked. “I know someone who can help us with that…”

* * *

“No. Absolutely not.”

“But Uncle Gladstone –”

“No!” Gladstone Gander walked across his apartment towards the fireplace – which took a while, as it was one of the more spacious suites in the castle, albeit a downstairs one.

Fenton and Louie followed him. “Your Grace, please –” Fenton said.

“Look, I get it,” Gladstone cut him off, “you’re in a precarious position. But so am I! So far, that queen upstairs has decided she’s better off not risking turning my luck against her, and she’s left me alone. If she finds out I helped you, she might decide it’s worth the risk. And then it’s goodbye to the easy life. For all I know she has a spell that could take my luck away,” he added, shuddering at the thought. “I’d be _normal._”

“Who here is normal?” Lena said as she stepped out into the room – not from the front door as Fenton had, nor from a secret passageway as Louie had, but straight through the wall behind the fireplace.

Gladstone leapt backwards, startled. “What’s _she _doing here?!”

“Be grateful I chose to phase in instead of letting any shadows see me use your door,” Lena said dryly. “I’m here because whatever you tell Sir Knucklehead and Llewelyn here –”

“_Please_donotusemyrealname.”

“– I need to know.”

“What you know, your aunt will soon know,” Gladstone said.

Lena shrugged. “That’s a risk that people seem strangely willing to take today.”

“Oh, come on, Uncle Gladstone,” Louie wheedled. “With luck like yours, how could she ever find out? And you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you one-upped her.”

Gladstone crossed his arms and grumbled to himself for a few moments.

“Fine,” he finally said. “Just this once.”

He grabbed a rolled-up map from a nearby bookshelf and flattened it out on his desk.

“I make no promises,” he said. “My luck only works for _me_. But if what’s good for you is good for me too, then…”

He took a coin out of his pocket and flicked it at the desk, not even really looking at where he was tossing it. The coin landed on its edge and rolled across the map in a meandering pattern, finally falling over a spot on the far north of the map.

Gladstone picked up the coin, tapping the spot on the map that it had fallen on. “There’s your princess,” he said.

Louie, Fenton, and Lena leaned over the desk to look at the map.

“The northern swamps...” Fenton nodded resolutely. “It won’t be long now. It won’t, because it can’t be long.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say,” Gladstone waved them towards the door. “Just leave me out of this from here on out, alright?”

* * *

Lena steeled herself, planting a casual smirk on her face as she pushed open the throne room doors. A few shadows slid across the floor to flank her and Fenton as they entered the grand chamber, hissing softly to each other. Fenton did his best not to look at them as he and Lena approached the throne, but it wasn’t easy.

It became easier when he noticed that standing near the throne, at Magica’s right hand, was the Gizmoduck suit. That pulled his attention away from their stalkers, capturing his brain with a wave of guilt. He had been King Scrooge McDuck’s most trusted knight back in the day, but he hadn’t even noticed Magica de Spell’s arrival until his own shadow rose up from the ground and snatched control of the powerful armor away from him. And now, there it stood – a tool of the sorceress’s cruel regime, and a symbol of his shame.

“I didn’t call for you,” Magica said, breaking his train of thought. But she wasn’t talking to him. Her eyes were on Lena.

Lena pointed a thumb at Fenton. “Sir Crackpot here asked me for a favor. It was funny enough that I’m entertaining him.”

Magica turned to Fenton, tapping the end of her scepter against the ground. “Well?”

“Your majesty.” Fenton bowed as low as he could. “As a knight of this kingdom, I have the honor to request a perilous labor. I wish to search for a true princess, a princess of royal blood, one who might pass your majesty’s test.”

“Hm.” Magica’s fingers drummed against the gem at the top of her scepter. “No.”

Fenton looked up. “Y-Your majesty?”

“No!” Magica said again, lips curling into a sinister grin. “We’ve been through all the eligible girls in all the neighboring kingdoms. There aren’t any left. We’ll just have to wait until their little sisters grow up, now won’t we?”

Fenton glanced at Lena for help. She didn’t look at him.

“B-But Madame,” Fenton said, “I don’t, I’m not going to search in the neighboring kingdoms. I plan to head north, over the mountains.”

Magica raised an eyebrow. “Over the mountains?”

“Across the Badlands.”

“Across the Badlands?”

“And into the marshland, where the beautiful Swamp Lily grows.”

“Into the marsh – The northern swamps?” Magica laughed. “You’re out of your mind. There’s no kingdom there, none worth mentioning. You won’t find anything but enormous frogs and oppressive humidity.”

“You know, Aunt Magica, sometimes I get the strangest feeling that you don’t _want _me to get married,” said Lena. “What, are you scared he’ll actually find someone who can beat your little tests?”

Magica’s eyes snapped back towards Lena. “Scared?” The word was ice on her tongue.

“Violet got pretty close, that’s all I’m saying,” said Lena. “I should think you’d want to prove _no one_ could meet your standards. Can’t do that if you don’t let anyone try.”

“Such petulance,” Magica mused. “I raised you better than that, now didn’t I?”

“By a certain definition of ‘raised,’” Lena snarked.

Magica leaned forward on the throne. She held up a hand, her first and middle fingers pressed to her thumb.

“I made you,” she said in a voice much quieter than her usual tone. “I could unmake you. Just like _that._”

She snapped her fingers. Lena flinched. Magica leaned back in her chair, satisfied.

“Alright,” she said to Fenton, “go ahead. It’s your sinus. And perhaps there’s a princess out there lurking in the muck after all.

“Go on.” Magica waved at the door. A few shadows broke away from the gloom at the edges of the room and sped off down the hall. “Sir Fenton alone will be allowed to leave. Now, both of you, out of my sight.”

Fenton bowed and left the throne room, Lena following. The great doors closed behind them.

Gandra, waiting a short way down the hall, ran up to them. “Well?”

“I have permission to go!” Fenton said. “Lena, I –”

But Lena looked at him, and whatever gratitude he was about to express died on his tongue. There was something manic to that look. Her pupils had dilated, and she was shaking now, trembling like a leaf in a hurricane.

“I am _never _doing that again,” she whispered with an intensity a shout could not have reached. “Never ask me to do that again.”

Gandra frowned and opened her mouth to speak, but Fenton put a hand on her shoulder, gently silencing her.

“I understand,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By all means ask questions, but please don’t ask what the rules are about science in this world. I really don’t know. The Gizmosuit exists but lightbulbs do not, that’s all I know. Do we even know what the rules are about science in the CANON DuckTales world? No, no we don’t. Did I conclude that lightbulbs do not exist in this world because the name "Little Lamp" makes me laugh? Yes, yes I did.


	4. Shy/Sensitivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a scheme, an argument, and a meet cute, but not necessarily in that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uhYJ3mV1eQw and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y-Tw9msMYJg

_“Sir Fenton rode out of Castle McDuck that very day, on his trusted friend and valiant steed the Headless Manhorse. For three weeks the castle waited his return, and none more anxiously than Lady Gandra. But then, one sunny morning, two distant figures were seen from the north round tower, approaching at full gallop. And so the cry went out about the castle halls: ‘Sir Fenton is back! Sir Fenton is back with the new princess!’_

_“Now, our friend the minstrel over there told us that the princess arrived on a stormy night. This, of course, is completely untrue. It didn’t storm that night at all. In fact, it wasn’t even night. And the princess only _looked _as though she’d come in from a storm…”_

The grappling hook attached to the top of the courtyard wall with a _clunk, _and all the knights and nobles gathered near the castle entrance stared at it. Black Heron stared, too, from where she stood by the drawbridge controls, one hand still on the lever as the rarely-used bridge slowly, laboriously lowered.

But evidently the drawbridge wasn’t necessary for at least one of the people arriving at the castle. Just as Magica and Lena stepped out into the courtyard, a pair of hands appeared on the wall next to the hook, and a girl pulled herself up to sit on the wall. Her pink gown was completely soaked, as was the pink bow in her hair, and the rest of her for that matter. There were even a few slimy weeds clinging to her dress.

The girl shook her wet hair out of her eyes, sending droplets flying everywhere, and grinned widely at the crowd. “Hi!” she said. “I’m Webby!”

Magica gaped. “You swam the moat?” she said.

“Oh, the drawbridge was taking a long time,” Webby replied, wringing out the hem of her gown. “And I wanted to get here as soon as possible.”

“You _swam _the _moat?_” Magica said again.

Webby looked behind her at the water, as though it was only just now occurring to her that it had been an odd thing to do.

“Alright,” she said, rolling up the grappling hook’s cord and clipping it to her belt. “I was a little anxious. My friends Fenton and Manny – oh, they’re still out there – they told me you had an opening for a princess, and I figured, the early bird…

“Anyway, here I am!” Webby hopped down from the wall with a perfect three-point landing. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

Lena took a step to the side, ducking behind the golden throne on the dais.

The princess began to run around the courtyard, leaving a trail of water droplets as she approached every woman in sight.

“Are you Lena? No? Okay, how about you?”

But they were all shaking their head and backing away from her, though none of them could stop staring at her.

“Hi, I’m Webby. Are you Lena? No? Thanks anyway. Hi, are you…?”

Finally Webby exhausted all the obvious options, and stood at the base of the dais, hands on her hips.

“Someone’s being bashful,” she said. “But that’s no way to be, not with me! I’m just as embarrassed about this as you are, you know. I’m socially awkward, and _horribly _shy. Comes from being shut in my whole life, I suppose. The point is, you’ve got nothing to be afraid of! I’m right here! Come and get me!”

She threw out her arms in a wide gesture, and waited, but lowered them when no one came running.

“…you _swam. _The _moat_.” Magica said again.

Webby blinked up at Magica. Then she walked over to Black Heron, tugging on her sleeve.

“Does she ever – ooh, cool mechanical arm, by the way – does she ever say anything except ‘You swam the moat?’” she asked.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Black Heron said dryly.

Webby ran back to the dais. “Do you ever say anything except, ‘You swam the moat?’”

A laugh forced its way out of Lena’s throat. She clapped her hands over her mouth, staring down at her own beak in surprise.

“Do you mean to ask me to believe that you’re a true princess of the royal blood?” Magica began to walk down the steps of the dais. “And am I to _actually _understand that you have the nerve and the gall and the _presumption _to apply for my Lena’s hand in marriage…”

Lena peeked out from behind the throne. Webby was walking backwards as Magica strode towards her. The crowd of gathered observers parted as they crossed the courtyard, back towards the wall.

“Do you imagine for _one moment _that I would even _consider _you suitable for any place in this kingdom?” Magica continued. “You are laboring under a very unfortunate misapprehension, little miss moat-swimmer.”

“Okay, okay!” Webby hopped back up onto the wall. “I wouldn’t want to come between anyone and their… however you’re related. If the answer’s no, you can just say so.”

“It is.” Magica turned on her heel and walked towards Heron.

Lena looked down and realized that her feet had carried her out into the center of the courtyard, apparently of their own volition. She looked up at Webby again, who was standing on the wall, looking around the courtyard one last time with a rather disappointed look on her face.

Lena stepped forward and leaned against the wall, right underneath Webby. “Hey,” she said casually. “Looking for me?”

Webby looked down. Her eyes locked with Lena’s.

“Oh, wow,” she said, and then her foot slipped on the damp stone, and she went falling back into the moat again.

Some of the crowd rushed to the wall, trying to see up and over it. Others ran towards the drawbridge, which had finally lowered. Lena employed a small amount of shadow magic to lift herself up to rest her crossed arms on top of the wall. There she hovered, watching Webby swim towards the lowered drawbridge.

At that moment, there was a clatter of stone hooves on the bridge, and Fenton rode into the courtyard.

“Your majesty,” he said, bowing deeply, “I have the honor to announce the arrival of her royal highness, the Princess Webbigail!”

“You’re a little late,” Magica replied. “She’s been here and gone.”

“G-Gone?” Fenton looked behind him.

“Yes,” said Magica, “she’s swimming home. Like the frog she is. I told you no princess could come from the northern swamps, and _that, _Sir Fenton, is no princess.”

Manny clopped his hooves together a few times, which a few of the crowd understood to mean “I’ll let you explain, dude,” and then he wandered off into the castle, having had enough of serving as a steed.

“Ah, but she _is, _your majesty!” Fenton pulled a scroll out from his belt. “On my honor as a knight, I swear she is. I have her papers right here.”

He unfurled the scroll and read aloud: “Webbigail, Princess of Icolmkill, granddaughter of Bentina, Spymaster Queen of the North, Guardian of the Midgard Serpent and Warden of the Ragnarok Marsh Lily.”

Black Heron’s eyes widened. Magica’s did not.

“She’s not even worth the effort of testing,” Magica said. “Pull up the bridge, Heron.”

“Your majesty, if I may…” Black Heron stepped forward and whispered something into Magica’s ear.

Magica raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

Heron nodded. “Positive.”

“…then perhaps a test is, in fact, in order.” Magica turned to the crowd. “Black Heron and I will make up a nice fair test, just as we always do, and I’ll _prove _to you all that this girl cannot possibly be a princess.”

Webby appeared in the entryway of the courtyard again, wringing water out of her hair. Magica sneered at her.

“She’ll have her test,” said the queen, “and she’ll fail just like all the others… fair and square.”

She turned, swishing her cloak dramatically as she and Black Heron re-entered the castle.

Fenton looked up at the castle. A brown-feathered face was peeking out through the curtains of an upstairs window. The curtains fell shut again, and Fenton hurried indoors.

“Fail what?” said Webby, tossing a clump of seaweed over her shoulder.

“Oh, didn’t ‘your friend Fenton’ tell you?” Lena had come down from the wall. “Every princess who sues for my hand has to pass a royalty test to prove that she’s a real princess.”

“Oh, no, he _did_ mention that,” said Webby. “Though he didn’t say anything about what _kind _of a test it would be.”

Lena shrugged. “My aunt always keeps it a secret til the last minute. You can still turn back, you know.”

Just then a shadow peeled away from the vortex above and swooped down into the courtyard. It pulled the lever of the drawbridge, bringing the bridge back up much more quickly than it had gone down.

“Well,” said Lena, “so much for that.” The shadow hissed at her mockingly.

Webby looked up at the shadow vortex, a thoughtful look on her face.

“First things first,” she said. “I’d better get out of these wet clothes.”

“I’ll show you to your room, then.” Lena began to walk away. Webby skipped after her.

“You have a room prepared for me and everything?” she said. “So you _were _looking forward to my arrival.”

“The princesses always stay in the same room,” said Lena.

“Oh. Right.”

* * *

“Gandra? Where – oops!”

Fenton nearly ran right into the painting as it swung open in front of him. Gandra grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into the secret passageway. Little Lamp stood on the ground near her feet, providing just enough light to see by.

“Who _is _that girl, really?” Gandra demanded.

“Princess Webbigail,” said Fenton. “A real princess! Lord Gladstone was right, there _was _a kingdom in the northern swamps!”

“And you think she’s our best hope? Of passing the royalty test? Of freeing our child?”

“I know she will,” said Fenton.

“She’s an uncouth klutz who spent her childhood running wild through swamp water.” Gandra shook her head. “That sorceress isn’t going to have any trouble at all declaring her a fake. I’m surprised she hasn’t transfigured her already.”

“Don’t think like that.” Fenton reached for Gandra’s hand. “I have faith in her. At least you can put your faith in me.”

Gandra pulled her hand away. “I _did _put my faith in you,” she said. “I could have used this time planning an escape. But instead, I wasted it believing in you.”

Fenton’s eyes widened. Then they narrowed. “So I’m not worth believing in, is that what you think?”

“Give me something worth believing in, and I’ll believe in it.”

On the floor between them, Little Lamp held up his hands as though to push the two apart. Neither of them noticed the peacekeeping gesture.

“That was uncalled for,” Fenton snapped.

“Well you haven’t been very heroic lately, have you, _Gizmoduck?_”

“I’m doing my best with what I have! It’s better than what _you’re_ doing.”

“And what am I doing?”

“Complaining, mostly. I am sick and tired of hearing your cynicism and pessimism!”

“Then I won’t bother your sensitive ears with it anymore.” Gandra turned on her heel and strode away down the passageway.

“Fine!” Fenton turned and headed off in the opposite direction.

Little Lamp turned back and forth a few times, watching the two of them leave his circle of light, apparently unsure who to follow.

* * *

Magica’s heels clacked on the stone steps as she followed Black Heron down into the dungeon. The shadows down here were long in the torchlight, tormenting not only the people in these iron cells but the Beagle guards on duty as well.

Bigtime lifted a trembling hand to his forehead in a shaky salute as the villainous women passed by. “Y-Y-Your majesty.”

She ignored him. A pair of hands grabbed the bars of the cell, and Drake Mallard pulled himself to his feet.

“Whatever you’re planning,” he called after Magica and Heron, “it won’t succeed. Justice will prevail! I am the terror that –”

Magica lifted a finger, and a shadow swooped out of the gloom and towards the bars, shoving Drake backwards. His head smacked against the floor, which didn’t seem to hurt his body as much as his pride, as there was a significant dent forming in the floor in that particular spot.

“Hang in there, DW!” Launchpad McQuack called out from the adjoining cell. “The escape plan that we are definitely _not _working on will absolutely get us out of here this time!”

The shadow hissed with something like laughter. Drake facepalmed, but he did his best to keep it out of his tone of voice. “Thanks, Launchpad.”

Across the hall, Gyro Gearloose shook his head and scratched another tally mark into the wall. “You both are pathetic.”

Several shadows followed Magica as she followed Heron to the deepest part of the dungeon. There at the end of the hall was a door with a massive lock. Heron stuck her mechanical hand into the lock, her fingers serving as its key. The door swung open, revealing a kind of electrical field running along the doorframe and the interior wall of the room. Heron and Magica stepped through unbothered, but there the shadows stopped, hissing in annoyance as they tried in vain to find a way through the sparking field.

“I don’t see why you insist on this contraption,” Magica said, poking at the little generator set into the wall above the door, from which the field spread. “My shadows are ordered to obey you.”

“I like my privacy,” said Heron. “It’s literally the only thing I ask in return for my loyalty.”

“I know, I know.” Magica sat in the chair at the lab table. Heron pursed her lips, but did not comment on the sorceress taking _her _seat.

“So you know this girl, Heron?” said Magica.

“I know her family,” said Heron. “Bentina Beakley. She was always getting in my way. Even cost me my arm.” She flexed the fingers on her mechanical hand. “I’ve waited decades for a chance at revenge, sweet revenge.”

“Beakley - I remember that name,” Magica said. “She worked with old Scrooge, long ago. I’d wondered where she’d gone off to.”

“The northern swamps, evidently,” said Heron. “Set herself up as the Spymaster Queen. And she has an heir – a granddaughter, no less. And she’s walked right into our – into _your _castle!” Heron laughed. “It’s almost too perfect.”

“If she didn’t have the paperwork, I wouldn’t believe it.” Magica leaned back, tilting the chair onto its back legs. “Bentina Beakley was always the pinnacle of propriety. Refined, well-mannered – the image of a queen. Nowhere as royal as me, of course.”

“You are the epitome of royal grace,” Heron said flatly.

“But this ‘princess’ doesn’t have a proper bone in her body,” Magica continued. “She’s a wild thing, crass and crude. Climbing walls and swimming moats…”

“A test of her physical abilities is out of the question,” said Heron. “I want her humiliated, and she scaled the castle wall like it was nothing.”

“What we need is a test that looks fair, and sounds fair, and seems fair, and isn’t fair.” The chair tilted a little farther back, and Heron began quietly calculating how much farther it could go before the sorceress ended up on her back.

“Can you believe the temerity of that girl!” Magica said. “Entering the castle grounds unannounced and uninvited, speaking out of turn, running about like she owns the place… She doesn’t _know_ her place, that’s the problem. She has no sensitivity to social norms – that’s the answer!”

The chair slammed forward onto all fours, to Heron’s disappointment.

“We’ll test her for sensitivity!” Magica stood, pacing the room. “But exactly what?”

“Table manners?” Heron suggested.

Magica shook her head. “No, that’s not good enough. Sensitivity… A true aristocrat is loaded with it. It’s a blessing and a curse – not that you’d know, you’re no more royal than she is. But any legitimate queen can sense a vital change of mood in a room a floor away, or feel any lump in a mattress, even if it were small as a pea, and –”

She stopped and turned to face Heron, a wide, wicked grin on her face.

“We’ll test her tonight,” she said. “One tiny pea beneath a thick, downy mattress. Any _genuine _princess would feel it, after all. Who can argue with that?”

A grin to rival Magica’s spread across Heron’s beak.

“Why not _two _mattresses?” she said. “Or five?”

“Ten should be plenty,” said Magica. “Better still, make it twenty. And you can whip up a sedative for her, one of your foul drinks, in the event even that’s not enough to ensure that she sleeps. And find me the tiniest pea in Calisota!”

“Consider it done, your majesty,” said Heron, already imagining the sight of Princess Webbigail as a doll on the courtyard wall.


	5. The Swamps of Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Webby meets the triplets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Udydm_Mf4Q

_"Whenever a princess came to try for Lena's hand in marriage, they stayed in a bedroom on one of the highest floors of the castle - small in floor space, but with a high ceiling. Of course, this princess didn't yet know how appropriate a ceiling like that would be for what Magica and Heron had in store for her..."_

Webby twirled a little in the center of the bedroom, enjoying how the new, dry dress swished around her legs.

“Lucky for me one of those previous princesses was about my size,” she said to Lena, who was sitting on the bed. “Who was she again?”

“Don’t remember,” Lena lied.

“Hm.” Webby hopped up onto the bed next to her. “So when do we rise up and overthrow your aunt?”

Lena blinked. “Say what now?”

“Sir Fenton told me the whole thing,” said Webby. “How this was once the kingdom of Scrooge McDuck. How you’re all being held prisoner here. He started out with the ‘princess bride’ pitch, sure, and that was tempting, but the call to heroic adventure was much more my speed. So where’s the rebellion?”

“Webbigail, you –”

“Webby.”

“Webbigail,” Lena repeated, her eyes darting to the corners of the room, which were for the moment free of shadows, “you can’t just _say _things like that.”

“Why not?” Webby followed Lena’s gaze. “Do the walls have ears?”

Which was when a ceiling panel suddenly swung open like a trapdoor, and three teenage ducks came falling through, landing in a squabbling heap on the fortunately very soft carpet.

“Get your foot out of my –”

“– your fault, you clumsy –”

“– always end up on the bottom, why, I ask you –”

Lena hurried to the door, making sure that it was locked before rounding on the boys.

“What the _hell _are you playing at?!” she hissed. “This is risky even for McDucks.”

“We wanted to meet the princess,” said Huey, extracting himself enough from the pile to wave at Webby, who waved back, her eyes wide.

“Why?” said Lena. “You’ve never wanted to before.”

“We heard she swam the moat!” Dewey climbed up onto the bed. “Please describe the look on Magica’s face in _complete _detail, I need to commit it to memory.”

“Excuse me,” Louie shoved Dewey out of the way – and off of the bed – as he extended a hand to Webby. “Hi, Louie Duck, future owner of this castle.”

“Oh my god!” Webby squealed. “It’s the triplets!”

“Oh, so you know about them, too?” said Lena.

“Of course I do!” Webby was practically bouncing on the bed in excitement. “Our families go way back! My granny used to join their great uncle King Scrooge and his heirs Donald and Della on all their adventures! I grew up on the stories! But you’re supposed to be missing, presumed dead! The whole family is!”

“Oh, we _are,_” said Dewey, pointing up at the open trapdoor, high above the bed. “Five years running, and Magica still hasn’t found the old secret passageways.”

“We’ve kept some of Uncle Scrooge’s treasure stashed up there, too,” Louie added. “The queen would waste it all otherwise.”

“Are they in hiding here, too?” said Webby. “Donald and Della and King Scrooge?”

The boys went quiet, all looking at Lena.

She rolled her eyes. “Well, since you’ve met the princes, you might as well also meet the king.”

Lena pulled the chain out from under her sweater, revealing the coin at the end.

It really shouldn’t have been physically possible for Webby’s eyes to get any wider, but they did. “Is that Scrooge McDuck’s Number One Dime?” she said.

“The first coin of his vast fortune,” Lena said, walking back towards the bed. “And now, his prison.”

Webby leaned over to look at the coin. It wasn’t unusual to see a monarch’s profile imprinted on a coin. But it wouldn’t make any sense for the first coin Scrooge McDuck ever earned, long before he became king, to have his own face on it.

The face blinked, or possibly winked – it was hard to tell, since only one eye was visible.

Webby gasped. “King Scrooge!”

Lena put a finger to her lips and nodded.

“What happened here?” Webby asked in a quieter voice. “I mean, I know the stories, but… what _really _happened?”

“We didn’t have any warning,” said Huey. “Magica de Spell brought all of our shadows to life and into her service.”

“The lunar eclipse fueled her attack,” said Dewey. “She struck us from within the castle itself. There was no chance to organize enough for a counterattack. We barely had enough time to hide.”

“The next thing we knew, Uncle Scrooge was trapped inside his dime,” said Louie. “And Uncle Donald, and our mom…” He trailed off with a shrug.

“But Magica de Spell and Scrooge McDuck had been rivals for decades,” said Webby. “He had his castle warded against all kinds of magic. How did she get in?”

Again all three of the boys looked at Lena.

“No comment,” she said, turning away to tuck the dime back under her shirt.

“Magica sent her in first,” said Dewey. “Her own shadow, in the shape of an ordinary girl. She started the attack. Brought our shadows to life and zapped our family away.”

“It’s not like I knew what I was doing, okay?” Lena snapped. “Magica called all the shots. I was just, I dunno, the puppet, or whatever. I couldn’t even tell you where that portal went. Donald and Della could be on the moon, for all I know.”

She turned to face Webby again. “If you want to play ‘rebellion,’ then hang out with those three. But this is all it is. There’s no uprising. The royal family’s in shambles, my aunt is unstoppable, and her shadow spies are everywhere. This is how it’s been for five years.”

Huey held up a finger. “You forgot about the prophecy.”

It was Louie’s turn to roll his eyes. “Here we go…”

Webby perked up. “Prophecy?”

Lena shook her head. “I didn’t forget. It’s just too stupid to mention.”

“There was a soothsayer in court the day Magica attacked,” Dewey explained to Webby. “She said, ‘The sorceress’s reign will finally end, when hawk’s devoured by timid hen.’ We didn’t know it at the time, but she must have been talking about Magica.”

“When hawk’s devoured by timid hen…” Webby repeated. “So… was she talking about _domesticated _hens, or… I mean the only other way to interpret that is –”

“Cannibalism?” Louie suggested dryly.

“I mean, yeah,” said Webby. “_Is _there anyone here who, you know –”

“In the dungeons,” said Huey, “but you can’t really call Gyro ‘timid.’ There’s no hawk in the kingdom as far as I can tell.”

“Though they might be hiding,” said Louie. “You know, out of fear of _cannibalism_.”

“The point is, there’s still hope!” said Dewey. “And beating Magica at the marriage law game will at least be a step in the right direction, right?”

“Assuming Webby still has any interest in seeing any of this through after this incredibly bizarre conversation,” said Lena.

“Oh, no,” said Webby. “Granny’s stories can get a lot weirder than _this._ This is pretty much exactly the kind of adventure I’ve always dreamed I’d be a part of. Don’t get me wrong, I love the swamps of home, but between staying stuck in the swamps and being a hero in a McDuck Family Adventure? I’d _much _rather be here.”

“Really,” said Lena. “Cannibalism and all?”

Webby grinned. “Cannibalism and all. So where do we start?”


	6. Normandy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gandra takes matters into her own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xfo8jS1qvcU

_“As the rebellion welcomed Webby into their ranks, Magica and Heron began to set their trap for the princess. The three of us knew we had to work fast if we wanted to figure out the nature of the test before it was too late. But we had another problem to deal with first…”_

Every castle corridor was a bustle of activity, even more frantically so than usual. When Queen Magica said “run,” you did so. And if she said “dance,” well, you were probably a little confused, but you did so, too.

“There’s to be an official ball tonight in honor of Princess what’s-her-name, and everyone is to attend,” the sorceress queen said to the courtiers gathered at the center of the ballroom, where servants and shadows were already at work polishing tables, hanging up banners, and arranging flowers. “We’re all going to do that new dance, the Garbabble Panic. You’ll love it, it’s absolutely _exhausting._ You _have _heard of the Garbabble Panic, haven’t you? It used to be all the rage in Egypt.”

Evidently nobody _had_ heard of it, since none of them had been to Egypt nor left the castle at all in the last five years. But nobody in their right mind would point that out to Magica, so the awkward silence extended.

The queen shook her head. “Must I do everything myself! The basic step is flip your skirts, open, close, right, right, right. It’s just that easy. Now, try it! Take partners – now, flip your skirts… open, close… right, right, WRONG!”

As Magica scolded the would-be dancers, a hooded figure ducked out from behind a large potted flowering shrub and snuck off down the hallway. She had something bundled-up and cradled close to her chest, and her head kept twisting around to check that no one had noticed and followed her.

“Gandra, what are you doing?” a voice said from behind a nearby mirror on the wall.

Gandra just pulled her hood lower over her face and kept walking. She was nearly to the courtyard now. Just a few more corners…

Muffled footsteps on the other side of the wall struggled to keep up with her; the secret passages didn’t completely line up with the visible hallways. “No no no, nerp, you stop that, whatever you’re planning, don’t do it!”

“Shut up before somebody hears you,” Gandra hissed.

A segment of the wall swung outward, stopping Gandra in her tracks. Louie’s head poked out from around the secret door.

“Get in here before somebody _sees _you,” he said. “Do you even realize how suspicious you look right now? In that rogue getup?!”

Gandra rolled her eyes, but she stepped into the passageway. All three of the princes were there, the varying degrees of anxiety on their faces visible in Little Lamp’s light.

“I’m leaving,” she said once the door was closed behind her. “I’m getting out of this castle, out of the city, out of the kingdom if I have to. If you try to stop me, I’ll fight you.”

“It’s not _us _you have to fight,” said Huey. “The shadow vortex has – whatever shadows use for eyes, on the courtyard at all times. If you try to lower the drawbridge –”

“Then I’ll climb over the wall,” said Gandra. “It worked for that swamp rat princess.”

“She was trying to get _in,_” said Dewey. “You’re trying to get _out. _They’ll come after you.”

“Let them come.” Gandra shifted the bundle to one arm and raised a hand. Electricity crackled under her glove. “I’ve recalibrated my nanites. I’m channeling enough energy now to take out a dozen of those shadows!”

“So while you’re using your zappy-hands to fend off the shadows, you’re also climbing over the castle wall, _and _swimming to shore, _and _holding onto Gandra Junior here?” Louie tugged at the bundle in Gandra’s arm.

Gandra scowled, pulling the wrapped-up egg away from him and turning her back on the boys.

“Where’s Fenton?” said Dewey. “Does he know about all this?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” said Gandra. “Fenton wants to sit around and wait for things to get better. I tried that. Stupidly. I could’ve been in Normandy by now, but…”

“So you’re going to try to escape right now, all on your own, with an incredibly risky plan,” said Huey.

“Risky is my middle name.” Gandra sighed, leaning back against a wall and sliding down to sit on the floor, the egg in her lap.

“I should be celebrating,” she said. “I should be able to have my egg out in the sunlight. I should be running experiments, putting the final touches on security tech in the baby’s room, ripping the fabric of the universe and bending the elements to my very will… Instead I’m hiding in tunnels, terrified for my life, and my baby’s future wellbeing is in the hands of _teenagers. _It’s not fair!”

“Not fair?” Huey’s eyes were very wide. “Not fair. You want to talk about not fair? Not fair is not knowing where your mom is, or your uncle, or if they’re even alive. Not fair is knowing where your great-uncle is, but not being able to get any help from him because he’s _trapped inside a dime. _Not fair is spending half your childhood crawling through dark tunnels! And not even seeing the sun for months at a time! We should be in school! And going on adventures! And, I don’t know, playing sports, probably, kid stuff like that! But we’re not! Instead we’re trying to save a kingdom we’re not even old enough to rule yet! And that’s not fair! It’s not!”

Louie put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “If we play the ‘who has it worse’ game, we’ll be here all day,” he said. “The point is, nobody has it _good _right now. But just because we’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, doesn’t mean we have to beat our own brains out with the rock. We have to do our best with what we have.”

“You sound like Fenton,” said Gandra. “He can’t _really_ think things are going to work out, can he? Can any of you?”

“What choice do we have?” said Dewey.

Louie sat down next to Gandra in the dark. “Stay here another day. You can spend that day trying to make a better escape plan. One that won’t put your egg at risk. Or, you can spend it helping us figure out what the test is.”

“Once we figure it out, we can make sure that Webby beats it,” said Dewey. “Besides, we’ve got Lena helping us, too.”

Gandra shook her head. “Lena’s not going to help us.”

“I get it,” said Louie, “you don’t trust her, but –”

“It’s not a matter of trust,” Gandra interrupted him. “You didn’t see her after she got Fenton permission to leave. Lena isn’t going to help us. We can’t count on her.”

* * *

Lena leaned against the balcony railing, watching the activity below. Her aunt was plotting something, she had to be. But what?

Webby popped up at her side. “I made us matching friendship bracelets!” she said, holding out a bit of woven blue and pink string. “I didn’t know your favorite color, and Fenton didn’t either. But he said you had pink in your hair, so I went with that. I like pink, too.”

Lena took the bracelet from her. “Thanks, I guess,” she said, going back to watching the courtyard. A group of musicians was walking through on their way to the ballroom.

Webby climbed up to sit on the railing next to Lena. “I’ve never been to a party before,” she said.

“No parties in the swamps?” said Lena.

“Not in our castle, at least,” said Webby. “Granny’s always told me we need to keep a low profile. I think she’s worried someone might try to kidnap me.”

“So you decided to go on a high-stakes wedding quest,” said Lena. “What did your granny think of that?”

Webby blushed. “I, uh, didn’t tell her I was going. I just, left.”

Lena raised her eyebrows. “Naughty girl. Didn’t even give her a cover story?”

“No.” Webby’s brow furrowed. “I know she must be really worried about me. She always is. I just had to go. I couldn’t stay there anymore, especially not after I knew there were people here who needed my help.”

“And now you’re stuck here with us,” said Lena. “Any regrets?”

Webby grinned. “None at all! Back in the swamps, I didn’t have any friends. But everyone’s been so nice to me here – except your aunt, but I’m pretty sure she’s evil.”

Lena snorted. “Yeah, pretty much.” She tossed the bracelet in her hand up and down a few times.

“And if all goes well, this whole thing ends with me marrying you, so that’s another plus.”

Lena nearly dropped the bracelet. “How?”

“How what?”

“How is… you know… _that… _a plus?”

Webby shrugged. “I mean I’ve only known you like a day, but you’re really cool.”

“And so you want to marry me.” Lena’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Yeah, that makes sense. Did you miss the part where I’m literally the shadow of Magica de Spell and an integral part of why everyone’s in this mess in the first place?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything!” Lena crossed her arms on the railing. “If Aunt Magica’s evil, then… what does that make me?”

Webby put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re someone who can do something about this,” she said. “You can stand up to the queen.”

Lena shrugged Webby’s hand off. “I can’t. No one can.”

Webby sighed, sliding down from the railing to stand on the balcony again. “Well, _I_ think you can. I think you’re more than where you came from, Lena. And you’re capable of more than you know.”

There was a knock on the door in the room behind them. “Princess Webbigail?” came the muffled voice of a servant on the other side.

Webby lit up. “It’s time for the party!” she said, running back inside.

Lena watched her go. Then she looked down at the bracelet in her hand.

She tied it around her wrist and followed Webby into the castle.


	7. Song of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the mood is very different from the source material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1A0_IYSl7vU

_“That evening, the ballroom was packed. The queen had ordered everyone to attend, after all, and god help anyone she caught walking instead of dancing. Of course, she probably didn’t intend for her invitation to extend to my brothers and me, but we never could resist a masquerade…”_

Dewey grinned behind his blue harlequin mask. It was just so satisfying to be here, in the middle of the crowd, standing tall in the torchlight instead of crouched in the dark passageways. Everyone here was masked, even the queen, though it was obvious from her magic scepter and her green-feathered hands who she was. And while someone might conceivably have noticed the sudden appearance of three teenage ducks in a castle mainly populated by adults, no one stopped to ask any of them who they were. All were too aware of Magica’s eyes on them, and too focused on obeying her command to dance.

The Garbabble Panic was an absolute mess. People kept bumping into each other, tripping over themselves to keep up with the ever-increasing tempo of the musicians. Even if everyone here had been professionally trained in the steps, and were not currently terrified for their lives, it likely still would have been a mess, given how complicated and overwhelming the steps were.

Complicated and overwhelming for everyone, that is, except Webby.

Everyone knew who _she _was, in the bright red dress and the even brighter pink mask. She’d learned the steps from mere minutes of watching. She didn’t seem to mind or even notice when she bumped into someone, and every trip turned into a flip that put her right back on her feet. Webby dipped, twirled, and switched between dance partners with a gleeful grin on her face all the while, her laughter sounding out above the music.

As the hours passed, the crowd on the ballroom floor thinned, some cautiously retreating to nurse black eyes from stray elbows while others collapsed outright from exhaustion. The triplets gathered again near the potted plant that concealed the nearest secret passageway, planning to back out of sight again before things grew too still. But even now, no one was paying them any mind. Magica and everyone else had their eyes on Webby, at the center of the ballroom, still dancing and clapping along to the flagging beat of the musicians.

“Got anything?” Louie muttered to his brothers, who shook their heads. They’d each taken turns dancing closer to Magica, in hopes of overhearing something about the test, but the queen had hardly said anything this whole time. The only suspicious thing was Black Heron’s absence, but not even the boys dared attempt to sneak into her dungeon lab to see if she was there.

Magica strode across the dance floor towards Webby. “Are you feeling a little weary, dear?” she said.

“No, let’s do it again!” Webby exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air and twirling.

Someone burst out laughing.

It took the triplets a moment to figure out who it was, because they’d never heard her laugh before, at least not like _that_.

But there was Lena, leaning against a pillar, her mask hanging freely from one hand. She was smiling. And sure, the boys had seen Lena smile before, on the rare occasion that she seemed happy. But this smile was lighter, brighter. Lena’s eyes were on Webby, and her face was like that of a child staring at a rainbow, or like someone who had spent her entire life in darkness but had suddenly, unexpectedly, caught sight of the sun.

The boys stared at Lena. Then, as one, their heads turned towards Magica. She was staring at Lena, too, eyes narrowed.

“Aw, phooey,” the princes said simultaneously.

* * *

Huey, Dewey, and Louie didn’t dare talk about it until they were back in the relative safety of the passageways.

“Well, men, it’s finally happened,” Louie said, sitting cross-legged on the stone floor. “Our heartless shadow princess has fallen in love.”

“My brain keeps going back and forth between ‘oh, gross’ and ‘aw, cute,’” said Dewey. “Is this what maturity feels like?”

“It’s definitely cute.” Huey lowered a hand, allowing Little Lamp to run over and jump onto his palm. “But it also complicates things. Gandra’s right, we can’t rely on Lena’s help. Magica’s gonna be watching her like a hawk. We can’t let her in on any of our plans anymore.”

Louie looked up. “What did you say?”

“I said we can’t tell Lena anything about –”

“No, after that. You said Magica’s going to be watching her like a…” Louie started muttering to himself. “Oh, but it can’t be _that _easy, can it? I mean not that it’s _easy, _she’ll never do it if we ask, but if she – this could work, this could really work…”

Huey looked at Dewey. Dewey shrugged.

“What could work?” said Dewey.

Louie jumped to his feet. “Regroup with Fenton and Gandra,” he said, already starting off down the passageway. “We need to find out what the test is, stat. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Where are you going?” said Huey.

“Just a side project, don’t worry about it.” Louie called over his shoulder, disappearing into the darkness. “I’ll meet you in the treasure room!”

Dewey sighed. “I hate it when he does that.”

* * *

“Maybe you could give me a clue,” Webby said. Magica was busy bossing around the collapsed and cowering partygoers, and so she and Lena had made their way out to the courtyard.

“A clue?” said Lena. She was twirling her friendship bracelet around her finger, a distracted little smile on her face. There was a cool breeze out here, in the quiet of the night, not like the heat and noise of the ballroom. She’d had a lot more fun than she’d expected to…

“About the test.”

Lena stopped. “Oh,” she said, pushing the bracelet onto her wrist again.

Had she really forgotten? Just for a moment, everything had been peaceful and calm. But in the morning…

“I know it’s a secret,” Webby was saying, “and I know you don’t know what it’s going to be, but what kind of test does she usually give?”

“With my aunt thinking up the test, it could be anything,” said Lena.

“Well, where does the test take place?”

“Right here.” Lena nodded at the dais, and the golden throne. “In the courtyard. For everyone to see. And then…”

Her gaze turned upward, not quite as far as the shadow vortex blocking out the moon and stars, but up to the row of dolls seated just above a row of flickering torches.

Webby followed her gaze. “Are those…?”

“My previous suitors.” Lena walked across the courtyard, standing just below the dolls. “What’s left of them, anyway. All twelve princesses.”

Webby was right at her side. “What happened?”

“June came first.” Lena’s eyes were on a doll at one end of the row, with a yellow bow on its head. “Aunt Magica tested her on history. Really specific stuff, things you’d never need to know. That didn’t take long.

“Then there was Gosalyn,” she said of a doll with orange pigtails. “She was spunky. A real tomboy. You’d have loved her. So Magica gave her a fashion test, which of course, she failed.

“The tests can get stranger than that, though. Mata was tested for her ability to tell a convincing lie. That’s her dress you’re wearing.”

“You said you didn’t remember,” said Webby.

“I remember everything,” said Lena. “I wish I didn’t. Dickie over there got a dancing test. May was tested for agility, and Kassidy for spelling. Adelia – I almost thought she was going to pass, that time. We all did. She had magic. If anyone could stand up to my aunt… but the test was to lift one of those old weights over there,” Lena pointed at the corner, “and the poor fairy didn’t have a muscle in her body. Magica zapped her before she could even draw her wand.”

“Hm.” Webby walked over to the weights, picking one of them up with one hand and holding it over her head. She grinned at Lena, who didn’t return the smile.

“She won’t test you for strength,” said Lena. “The point isn’t for you to pass. Daisy would’ve loved a fashion test like Gosalyn, but she got a sports test instead. Donna flunked a test for keeping her temper. April was alright with numbers, but even she couldn’t keep up with Heron’s math.”

“I get it,” Webby said.

“Zan _should _have passed a test of strategy, but let’s face it, Magica’s tactics don’t make any logical sense to anyone who isn’t her. And Violet…”

Lena shook her head, staring up at the gray hummingbird doll.

“She stayed up all night studying,” she said. “She didn’t even know what to study for, but she did it anyway. All night in the library. For nothing.”

Webby walked slowly back towards Lena. “They must have all cared about you a lot, to risk themselves like that for you.”

Lena snorted, turning her back on those horrible dolls. “They didn’t care about me. They just wanted a chance at Scrooge McDuck’s throne. Why else would they walk into such an obvious trap? Nobody passes my aunt’s tests. And nobody ever will.”

Webby was quiet for a moment. Then she pulled out the grappling hook, throwing it up to latch on the wall next to the row of dolls.

Lena looked at her. “What are you doing?”

“I want to see what the view’s like from up there,” said Webby, bracing her feet against the wall. “Assuming they’re still conscious, I mean. Are they aware of their surroundings, or dead to the world?”

“Webbigail.”

She was already halfway up the wall. “If it’s a nice view, then maybe it won’t be such a bad life, if I don’t pass.”

“Webbigail – Webby, stop!” Lena reached up and grabbed Webby’s arm. “Don’t go up there. Please.”

Webby looked down at her. “Why?”

Lena’s mind was a blur of fear. She struggled to put words together, not daring to let go of Webby’s sleeve.

“I can’t…” she tried, and then again, “I don’t… I…”

But she couldn’t say it. The very thought of seeing Webby sitting up there with the dolls – the thought of Webby as one of the dolls – was too much to bear.

“Please come down,” Lena finally said. And Webby did. Only when she had both feet on the ground, and the grappling hook was coiled up and stashed away again, did Lena finally let go of Webby’s arm.

“Do you want me to pass the test?” said Webby.

Lena nodded.

“Then I’ll pass,” Webby said, reaching out to give Lena’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

Lena shook her head. “No. No, there has to be another way. I’ll talk to the boys. We’ll get you out of here. I’ll go up there and distract the shadow vortex, and you can –”

“Lena.” Webby cut her off. “I’m not running away from this.”

“You should be safe at home. Let me help you escape!”

“I’m done being safe! Whatever the test is, I’m going to take it, and I’m going to pass.”

Lena dropped Webby’s hand, turning and walking across the courtyard again. She turned her face to the sky. The sun had long since set, now, and it was impossible for ordinary eyesight to see the shadow vortex spiraling high above. But she knew it was there. It was impossible not to know that it was there.

“How can you be so strong?” Lena wondered aloud. “So – so forthright, and confident? How are you so _you?_”

Webby came up behind her, putting her hand around Lena’s again. Lena let her.

“You said something about a library?” Webby said. “Take me there. We’ll do some last-minute cramming.”

Lena closed her eyes, and then turned her face to the ground, away from the vortex above. “Okay.”


	8. Happily Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things and people are uncertain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S7q_wgLa2AQ

_“Quiet – that was the new order. The queen threatened execution to anyone who dared disturb the rest of our guest of honor. Considerate, wasn’t she? Or so it would seem…”_

Magica’s finger was like a conductor’s baton, directing servants up the stairs, each lugging at least half their weight in fabric.

“Sheets, pillows, blankets… mattresses.”

The queen flashed a vampiric smile as the first of twenty soft, thick mattresses, with two unfortunate ducks stumbling along beneath it, made its slow way up the stairs.

The eyes on a painting of King Scrooge standing in front of his Money Bin slid aside, leaving a space for a pair of real eyes to peek through. Dewey watched the parade of bedding continue down the hall.

“Okay,” he muttered, “I really have no idea where this is going.”

* * *

“How about history next?” Webby tugged a thick tome off the shelf, bringing it over to the table where Lena sat.

Lena shrugged. “My aunt hasn’t repeated a test yet… but I guess it can’t hurt.”

Webby opened the book to a random spot in the middle. “Let’s see. ‘The Bravery of Prince Waldere…’” She flipped over a few more pages. “Why do history books focus so much on princes? There’s no way all the princesses just sat at home and did nothing.”

“You’re not like most princesses,” said Lena.

“That’s not really fair,” said Webby. “There aren’t that many royal families, and we both know of at least twelve princesses who didn’t just stay at home and do nothing. You even met them. So statistically –”

“Let’s just focus on studying,” said Lena. Anything to avoid thinking about what happened to those twelve princesses.

The library door swung open with a loud _creak._

“Still up and about, are we?” Magica’s voice was like bitter honey. “Shouldn’t you girls be in bed?”

“I’d rather stay up and study a bit more,” said Webby.

“Fine, fine, you’ll sleep better if you stay up later, I suppose. Lena – off to bed with you.”

Lena stared blankly at Magica. “I don’t sleep.”

The end of Magica’s scepter rapped once against the stone floor. Lena stood.

“I… See you in the morning, then,” she said, turning towards the door. Magica had stepped to the side, one arm held out in mock welcome as Lena came towards her.

Webby stood.

“I’m going to pass the test, Lena,” she said.

Lena looked back at her from the doorway. There was a strange little smile on her face.

“You want to know something scary?” she said. “I actually believe you will.”

And then Magica closed the door behind them, and Webby was alone in the library. It seemed a lot bigger now than it had before – all the towering shelves full of dusty tomes that didn’t shed the shadows they should have.

Webby didn’t cast a shadow, either. Hers had darted off to join the shadow vortex the moment she, Fenton, and Manny had crossed the border into Calisota. But she felt like she had one, nonetheless. In that moment, Webby felt the long, dark impact of her actions.

She’d given Lena hope.

If she failed tomorrow – well, she’d end up a little doll in a pink dress sitting on top of the courtyard wall, for one thing. But failure also meant letting Lena down, and any consequence to herself somehow felt infinitesimally small compared to how her loss would affect Lena.

Did Lena love her? Had Lena truly, incredibly, in this one day, fallen in love with her? Just like in a fairy tale, like the stories her granny had told her all her childhood? Stories of adventure, triumph, and heroes.

Webby had spent all her life longing to be a hero.

A hero would know how to give Lena and this entire kingdom a happy ending. A hero could see the way through the problem to the solution. A hero would know exactly what she was doing.

“What am I doing?” Webby said aloud. The books did not reply.

* * *

It was clear that Magica didn’t actually care where Lena went. She just didn’t seem to want Lena around Webby anymore for the night. And so, Lena soon found herself wandering the quiet castle halls, alone again.

Well. Almost alone.

Lena sat down in the middle of a staircase, pulling the quadriamond necklace out from under her sweater. The single eye of King Scrooge McDuck’s profile blinked at her curiously.

“Don’t look at me like that,” said Lena. “It’s not like you’re any help. Or like you’d want to help if you could. Blink once for ‘I hate you’ and twice for ‘I really hate you.’”

Scrooge just raised an eyebrow.

“You do!” Lena crossed her arms on her knees, letting the dime hang freely from her neck. “If you know what’s good for you. Aren’t you supposed to be the smartest of the smarties? I’m nowhere near that smart and even I know I’m getting what I deserve here. The shortest end of the most splintery stick.”

She sighed, her face lowering to press against her sleeves.

“I should just snap out of it,” she muttered. “I should just walk it all back. If I know what’s good for me, I’ll just… stop feeling like this.”

“Feeling like what?”

Lena’s head jerked up. Louie plopped himself down on the stair next to her.

“Feeling like what?” he said again.

“None of your business,” said Lena. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to butt in on people’s private conversations?”

“Nope. Haven’t had a good parental figure in, hm, five years. So no, no one taught me not to interrupt dime-to-shadow talks.”

Lena rolled her eyes. “And we’re back to things being my fault. As it should be.”

Louie waited. The silence drew Lena out.

“I was fine this morning,” she said. “Fine and… unfeeling. Like a shadow should be.”

“And now you’re not.”

“Yes. No. I don’t know! I don’t know… what this is.” Lena’s hands were fists on her knees. “Or what to do about it. It can’t end well. I don’t even know why it started, why I – how could she get to me like this, so quickly? I thought I couldn’t… I _know _I can’t…”

Louie leaned back against the stairs, his eyes on the ceiling.

“You know, people like us –” he began.

Lena raised an eyebrow at him. “Like _us_? The heck do we have in common, Llewellyn?”

“Clearly not an attitude towards my name. I mean the way we see the world, Lena, the way we see people. We see them for what they can do for us. Who to ask, who to nudge, it’s all motivated by self-interest. Which is totally the sensible way to be. It’s the way a lot of people are. How almost everyone in this castle is – how you need to be, if you’re going to survive. And if you don’t survive, then what’s the point? It just makes sense.

“But Webby?”

Lena closed her eyes at the name; Louie’s eyes remained on the ceiling.

“Webby isn’t like that,” he said. “I don’t think she has any ulterior motives. She looks at you, and she doesn’t see what you can get her. She sees _you. _And that’s rare. That’s really rare, to find someone like that. And it’s really _really _rare for someone like that to want _you. _That’s a treasure not even Uncle Scrooge could find. But Lena, you found it.”

Lena took the dime in her hand, looking down at it.

Then she shook herself, stashing the dime away beneath her shirt.

“What are you doing?!” she said to Louie.

The prince sat up straight, looking her in the eyes.

“I’m trying to get you to see what you have,” he said. “Because you have something here, Lena. For the first time in your life, _you have someone. _And if you know what’s best for you, you won’t let anyone take that away from you.”

Then he glanced up and down the staircase, and said, “I should go. Can’t be too careful,” and he was gone back into the secret passageways before Lena could even begin to figure out a retort.


	9. Yesterday I Loved You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fenton and Gandra are the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TS_pa8bRpwA

_“While Louie was off dealing with his ‘side project,’ Huey and I were hard at work figuring out the test. But we were running out of time, and running out of options…”_

Little Lamp looked up at the two princes as they entered the little room full of treasure, metal arms outstretched in a helpless sort of shrug. Fenton and Gandra were already there, glaring at each other over the egg in its nest of blankets.

“You tried to run away?” Fenton’s voice had a sharp edge to it; Dewey and Huey had never heard him sound so angry before. “I can’t believe – this is reckless, even for you!”

Gandra crossed her arms. “Yeah, this is why I didn’t want to tell you, Sir Self-Righteous Hero.”

“You could have been killed. Our egg could have been destroyed. Or worse! Can you even imagine –?”

“Of course I can! I’ve been living the same nightmare as you! But at least I’m trying to do something about it! I’m trying to protect our family!”

“Well I am, too!” Fenton threw his arms in the air. “But unlike you, I have a real sense of self-preservation! I consider the consequences of my actions – on both of us! Not that you care about what happens to you. Gandra, if you loved yourself _half _as much as _I _love you –”

Gandra scoffed. “As if you could love me even a _third _as much as I love you.”

There was silence in the secret chamber.

Fenton had to open and close his mouth a few times before finally finding words. “You… You love me?”

Gandra’s brow furrowed. “Yeah. Were you seriously doubting that?”

“But you said – you said you didn’t believe in me. That I wasn’t worth believing in.”

Gandra looked down. Then she knelt by the egg, adjusting the blankets, though they were already snugly wrapped around it.

“You’re a knight of Castle McDuck,” she said softly. “You’ve done more worth believing in than I ever could. I’m rude, I break rules. You’re literally the biggest goody-two-shoes in the world. You’re kind, and honorable, and not at all like me, and –”

“And you’re brilliant.” Fenton knelt as well, putting his hands on top of Gandra’s. “You hold the world to higher standards – the universe, even! And you don’t let anything dampen your fire, ever. Gandra – yesterday I loved you as never before, but today?” His hands clasped around hers, and their linked arms formed a circle around their egg. “Today I love you even more than that.”

“And tomorrow I’ll love you even more,” said Gandra.

Huey and Dewey let out twin sighs of relief. Even Little Lamp seemed relieved, despite its complete lack of facial features.

“But we have to win first.” Gandra looked over at the princes. “You convinced me to stay. So you better have a plan.”

“A plan,” said Huey. “Sure. We have one of those.”

“The queen’s kept her mouth shut about the test,” said Dewey, hopping up to his usual perch on the table. “She’s obviously planning something, but the only other person in the castle who knows what it is, is the one person there hasn’t been any sign of in the castle all evening.”

“Black Heron,” Fenton said grimly.

Huey nodded. “She wasn’t at the ball. She hasn’t set foot outside her lab since Webby arrived. As far as I can tell, at least.” None of the princes ever dared to venture too deep into the dungeons; there were too many guards and shadows to contend with down there. Even if they did dare, none of the secret passageways emerged into Heron’s lab.

“So you’re saying someone has to go down there and find out what the test is from Heron.” Gandra stood, flexing her nanite-enhanced fingers. “I’ll fry it out of her.”

Fenton stood just as quickly. “Consequences! The instant Heron realizes you’re there to fight her, she’ll sound the alarm and it’ll be over for all of us. The dungeons are crawling with shadows, and anything they know, Magica knows! Even if Heron told us willingly, the shadows would still hear and report us.”

“But not in Heron’s lab,” said Gandra. “She has a generator that keeps the shadows out. If we can get into the lab, they won’t know what happens.”

“The shadows will notice you picking the lock,” said Huey. “Heron will have to let you in. And _then _tell you willingly.”

“And why would she do any of that?” Dewey wondered aloud.

Fenton and Gandra looked at each other.

“I have an idea,” they said in tandem.

* * *

“Okay. Now knock on the door.”

“Haven’t we gone far enough?”

“Nope. You promised you’d take me to Black Heron’s lab.”

“And I did! See – we already went down an incredibly dark and perilous hallway full of sinister shadows, and here we are, at the lab. Now let’s _go. _It’s far too dangerous down here!_”_

“Dangerous? Coward.”

“I am not!”

“Then knock on the door.”

Silence.

“…just as I thought. You just don’t have what it takes, do you, Suit? You’re no genius like Heron.”

“Come on, Gandra, please…”

“I’m wasting my time with you. You’re not willing to go as far as you need to get what you want! You’re too sweet and law-abiding. Now, if I could talk to a _real scientist, _like _Black Heron…”_

The door opened, and Black Heron stuck her head out. “What do you want?” she demanded.

The couple bickering in her doorway jumped at being caught. The lady recovered much more quickly than the knight, who was shaking in his boots.

“Black Heron,” she said, holding out a gloved hand. “Gandra Dee. I’ve been trying to have the honor of speaking to you for five years!”

“Speaking to me?” Heron just stared at the proffered hand. “About what?”

Gandra grinned. “About literally anything that brilliant mind of yours can come up with. You just never get to interact with true bold intelligence around here. Everyone’s all shriveled up and cowering under the queen’s power.” She rolled her eyes at Fenton, who was doing a good job of cowering as though to demonstrate. “But you…? You’re not afraid of anything.”

Heron was silent for a moment. Then she smiled.

“What are you waiting for?” she said, stepping away from the door. “Come on in.”

Gandra stepped through, Fenton right behind her. The electrical field crackled as they passed by, and the shadows in the dungeon hall hissed at it, eternally frustrated by their inability to follow. Heron shut the door in a shadow’s lack of a face.

“Tell me about your arm,” Gandra said as soon as the door was closed. “It’s a marvel of mechanization – I’ve never had the chance to see it up close, of course.”

Heron held out her arm, allowing Gandra to examine the joints and gears. “Limb Replacement Version 4.7. Much more than a mere prosthetic. Nothing any faux scientist had created before would fit my vision, so I’ve had to use my own body as a prototype, naturally.”

Gandra’s eyebrows rose. “Experimenting on yourself? How dangerous. I like your style.”

Heron smirked. “Let me tell you –”

There was a hiss from a large vat at the center of the lab, reminding Heron where she was.

“Time-sensitive concoctions,” she muttered, crossing over to the vat.

“Are we interrupting something?” Gandra followed close behind her. “That looks important.”

“I’m very busy, yes.” Heron turned to a row of jars on a nearby lab table, each filled with brightly colored berries. “Keep away from that,” she snapped at Gandra, who backed away from the vat with her hands raised innocently. “It has a delicate balance of ingredients.”

“I wouldn’t dare meddle,” Gandra said. “It’s not every day you get to watch a master of science at her work. I haven’t had the chance to do any scientific experiments in years.”

Heron raised an eyebrow. “You’re interested in science?”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard to pursue a passion with shadows breathing down your neck everywhere you go.” Gandra nodded at the door. “That generator is truly ingenious.”

“And essential.” Heron picked amongst the jars, choosing the next ingredient carefully. “I do my best work alone. Not with those monstrosities around.”

“The solitary genius changes the world,” said Gandra. “The one who’s willing to strike out on her own, to take the necessary risks – that’s what I admire about you, Heron. You’re not just talk. Unlike some people.”

She shot a look back at Fenton lingering by the door, an abashed expression on his face.

“Those theorists don’t have what it takes,” Heron agreed.

Gandra leaned against the lab table. “So how does a free agent like you end up tied down to Magica de Spell?”

Black Heron scowled. “Tied down! Ha! Magica is the one ‘tied down,’ to me!” She added several colorful berries to the vat, and the liquid inside turned a pale green. “She doesn’t have any power of her own. She’s a sorceress! All she has is that scepter of hers, and the potions and elixirs I create for her. If she had any power of her own, she split it off into that shadow golem Lena years ago.”

“She’s nothing without you, obviously.” Gandra’s eyes darted across the series of containers lined up near the vat, the components of this potion. “I bet the princess tests are actually your invention, too.”

“They most certainly are,” Heron preened. “And this one is particularly delightful. That little princess will be utterly humiliated!”

“It’s a shame I’ll have to wait til morning to find out just how brilliant it is,” said Gandra.

“It _is _brilliant.” Heron straightened her posture, beyond pleased to have an audience. “You’ll never guess what we’re testing her for!”

Gandra grinned. “I’m sure I won’t.”

“Come now, I thought you were an intelligent woman of science!” said Heron.

“She is!” said Fenton.

Gandra rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Suit.”

“Give it a guess,” Heron pressed.

Gandra thought about it. “Astronomy?”

“Wrong!” Heron’s grin widened. “You’ll never guess. It’s sensitivity!”

“Sensitivity!” Gandra repeated. “Genius. Of course, I expect no less from the notorious Black Heron!”

“My reputation precedes me, and for good reason!” Black Heron sat in her chair. “Just wait until you hear the rest.”

“I’m all ears,” said Gandra.

Fenton leaned forward eagerly. Heron looked at him, her grin turning into a frown.

“You were King Scrooge’s right-hand minion,” she said. “I shouldn’t say anything, not with you here.”

“Oh, I, I’m not here to snoop!” Fenton stammered. “I’ll keep it a secret, I promise!”

Gandra sighed. “Fenton…”

“Alright, alright, I’ll go…” Fenton turned towards the door. “Um, how do you open this again?” He waved a hand at the field generator.

Heron shook her head. “No wonder you gave up science for knighthood,” she said, standing and crossing over to the door.

As she ushered Fenton out of her lab, her back turned to the vat – and to Gandra, who quietly tipped a jar of yellow berries into the potion.

“Hero boy couldn’t find his way out of a super suit,” Gandra said as she casually returned the jar to its place on the table.

Heron laughed, re-activating the field across the entrance of her lab. “I can’t imagine why you keep him around.”

“He makes me laugh.” Gandra pushed the chair away from the vat and towards Heron, offering her a seat. “Now that we’re free from prying ears… you were saying?”


	10. Very Soft Shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys get nostalgic and, hopefully, nobody sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=djPjUrGDw7o

_"Okay, Sir Heckler, calm down. I know what happened inside Black Heron’s lab because Fenton and Gandra told me afterwards. Suspend some disbelief, why don’t you? The three of us were nowhere near the dungeons, waiting – with as much patience as we could muster…”_

The boys really should have been inside the passageways, safe in the dark, especially since Lena wasn’t there to warn them of anything sneaking up on them. But Huey had found the darkness of the secret rooms stifling on top of all of the other anxieties of the moment, and so he was pacing back and forth along the carpet in a quiet back hallway.

“Do you think they got into the lab alright?” Huey said, eyes darting to the large painting of King Scrooge scaling a mountain peak, to the corner at the end of the hall where anything might come by, to his brother, and back to the painting again.

“Of course they did,” Dewey said confidently. “The plan requires Fenton to be a sweet guy and Gandra to be a bad girl – it’s literally what they’re both best at. They’ll be back in no time.”

“What about Louie?” said Huey. “What’s he up to?”

“Looking for the two of you,” said a nearby suit of armor. Then the painting next to it swung aside, and Louie stepped down from the opening.

“And here you are,” he said, “so that’s my mission accomplished. You said something about Fenton, Gandra and a plan?”

“Finding out what the test is from Black Heron,” said Dewey.

“Yeesh.” Louie leaned against the wall, as casually as he could manage. “Well, at this point, it is what it is.”

Huey looked up at the painting again.

“That’s Mount Neverrest,” he said. “Didn’t Mom and Uncle Donald go along for that one?”

“Oh yeah, I remember that story.” Dewey came over to look at the painting as well. “I wonder why they’re not in the picture?”

“Uncle Donald probably didn’t have the patience to pose for it,” said Louie. “And Mom… she was probably running off towards the next adventure already.”

Huey laughed softly. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Dewey put his hand up to the picture frame. “Maybe we’ll get to go on adventures with them, too, when they get back,” he said. “Uncle Scrooge always said we would, before…”

He trailed off. There was no need to finish the sentence. There wouldn’t be any adventures, not with Magica at the height of her power, not with their king trapped in a dime, not with them not knowing if their mother and uncle were even alive.

The silence was broken by rapidly approaching footsteps. The princes scurried behind the painting, shutting the secret door behind them. They waited in the dark passageway, barely daring to breathe, as the footsteps neared, and stopped…

…and then the painting swung open again, and there stood Fenton and Gandra.

“There you are!” said Fenton.

Huey leapt to his feet. “Did you find out –?”

“Yes.” Gandra snapped her fingers, and Little Lamp ran up obediently to light the way. “We have to hurry.”

* * *

One green finger pointed up at each mattress in turn.

“…seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty,” Magica lowered her hand with a smirk. “That should do it. “And where is that pea…?”

A shadow lifted up from the ground, placing the miniscule vegetable in Magica’s hand. The sorceress queen kissed the pea and, with a satisfied chuckle, placed it underneath the bottom mattress.

“Alright,” she said, raising her voice. “You can come in now.”

The door to the princess’s bedroom opened, and there stood Bigtime, holding a steaming flask of orange liquid in his hands. “Y-Your Majesty,” he said. The steam was making his fingers tingle after the long, careful climb up from the dungeons; that couldn’t be a good thing.

“That’s from Heron?” Magica said of the flask. The Beagle nodded.

“And the girl, where is the girl?”

Webby stepped into the room, nearly bumping into Bigtime – her eyes were still on a book in her hands. Magica snatched the book away from her, snapping it shut. Webby blinked at her empty hands for a moment drowsily.

“Ready for bed?” said the queen. “You must be sure to get a good night’s rest, so you’ll be fresh early tomorrow morning. You’ll be doing plenty of sitting up late in your future, I’m sure. Bring the drink, Beagle.”

Bigtime handed Magica the flask, bowing as he did so.

“Nothing like a warm cup of whatever-that-is before going to bed, I always say.” Magica grabbed Webby’s chin. “Drink it down,” she said, pouring the potion into Webby’s mouth.

Webby swallowed, wiping her mouth on her sleeve in a bewildered sort of way.

“Now, why aren’t you in bed?” said Magica.

The princess looked up at the mattresses. “Just like the loft back home,” she said, stifling a yawn.

“Yes, yes, now up you get.” Magica poked Webby towards the ladder leading up to the top mattress. She watched Webby climb up and lie down with her eyes closed. Satisfied, Magica turned and left the bedroom, Bigtime scurrying after her.

Webby lay still for a few seconds in the dark. Then she sat up, patting down a spot on the mattress before lying down again.

She rolled onto one side, then the other. She took the pillow and switched herself around so she was lying with her head at the foot of the bed.

Then she stood up on the mattress.

“All right, lumps,” she said. “Watch out!”

She leaped up, the top of her head grazing the ceiling as she elbow-dropped onto the mattress with the form of a trained wrestler. But this, too, did not have the desired effect.

“Okay,” she muttered, “let’s take it from the top.”

Webby climbed back down the ladder, turning to wave at an invisible crowd.

“Goodnight, everybody!” she said. “Sleep well. Oh, what a beautiful bed! With twenty soft, downy mattresses. I’m going to sleep like a baby. A metaphorical baby, I mean. Not an actual baby that’s up every hour crying.”

She climbed back up the ladder and lay down on the topmost mattress. She closed her eyes.

She opened them again.

She sighed and sat up, dangling her legs over the edge of the bed.

“Gotta break out the old tricks, I guess,” she said. “Fine. One gold-fleeced winged ram flying over the _Argo… _Two gold-fleeced winged rams flying over the _Argo… _Three gold-fleeced winged rams flying over the _Argo…_”

* * *

For Lena, nights were always long. This one was longer than most, and then it was over, and in hindsight it suddenly seemed all too short.

She stood in front of a mirror, looking herself over. She’d changed clothes, for the first time ever. Her normal sweater had been replaced by a long purple tunic with an embroidered hem, something she’d found in a closet that fit well enough. It still securely hid the dime at the end of its chain, but it left her arms bare. She thought Webby might like it.

As Lena tightened the friendship bracelet around her wrist, she heard the low hiss of approaching shadows. They reached the room first, sliding under the door mere moments before Magica opened it.

“There you are,” said the sorceress queen. “It’s time for – are you wearing a colorful personalized bracelet?”

Lena put a hand over the bracelet, her eyes on her own reflected gaze. “Webby made it. The least I can do is show support.”

Magica laughed. “Oh, my sweet, dumb, dumb little Lena. You actually want her to pass!”

“So what if I do? The whole point of this is to find me a bride, right?”

“As if anyone could actually want to marry you.” Magica took a step closer to her. “You’re being the worst fool of all: a sentimental fool. You don’t really think that she likes you?”

Lena’s eyes shifted upwards towards Magica’s reflection, framed by the doorway in the mirror. “She can tell us herself. After the test.”

Again, Magica laughed, even more nastily than before. “The test! Why, Lena, the test is all over!”

Lena turned to face her. “What?”

“The test is over.”

“But – when was it? What was it?”

“It was last night.” Magica turned the scepter in her hand, admiring the glow of the purple gem at its end. “We put her to bed on twenty soft, downy mattresses, with a pea under the bottom one – to test her sensitivity. And, of course, the pea would have kept a _real _princess awake.”

It was like the floor had dropped out from under Lena, like a block of ice had stuck itself in her throat.

“And she slept?” she managed to squeak around the block.

“Well, I’m sure I don’t know,” Magica said, not even trying to hide how much she was enjoying this. “But she was practically falling asleep before she got into bed, and yawning like a vulgar scullery maid. Come, Lena, as you said, she will tell us herself…”

The sorceress turned and walked out of the room again, the shadows following the swish of her long, black cloak.

Lena wasn’t sure she remembered how to walk.

“Oh, Webby…”


	11. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a lot happens very quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uOwsk0NS_dU

_“The courtyard was packed that morning. It always was, of course, on the day of the royalty tests – Magica demanded everyone’s attendance. Even the Beagles had come up from the dungeon to watch. But there was a different atmosphere, this time. A different feeling. Lena wasn’t the only one Webby had given hope…”_

On the dais, Lena had retreated to her usual spot at the base of the golden throne, her face as straight as she could keep it while Magica addressed the crowd.

“All here to see the princess off? Since she’s so clearly a favorite of ours, I’ve decided that she should have an extra-special consolation prize – perhaps glitter in the buttons for her eyes. Charming, charming! Now where is our little slugabed?”

The queen made a show of looking around. Black Heron, standing at the other side of the throne, was the only one who laughed.

“Ah, there she is now!” Magica said.

All eyes turned to Webby as she shuffled into the courtyard, her own eyes on the ground as she put one foot in front of the other.

Magica tutted. “And still in her nightclothes. How slothful. She must have slept like a baby.”

“Thirty-seven thousand, four hundred, and twenty-eight,” Webby mumbled as she reached the base of the dais.

“Thirty-seven thousand, four hundred, and twenty-eight what?” said Magica.

“Golden sheep,” said Webby. She blinked up at Magica with bleary, red eyes. “What do you stuff your mattresses with, poleaxes?”

Magica frowned. “What do you mean?”

Webby waved back the way she’d come. “I mean that bed belongs in the torture chamber.”

Lena jolted to her feet, grabbing the arm of the throne for balance. Heron’s jaw dropped.

“You didn’t sleep?” Magica demanded.

“I never shut my eyes,” said Webby.

Lena didn’t so much run as she flew to Webby’s side, grabbing the princess’s hands. “You passed!”

“Passed what?”

“The test! Aunt Magica put a pea under twenty mattresses! And you felt it!” Lena squeezed Webby’s hands. “Webby, we can get married!”

All throughout the courtyard, murmurs turned to gasps, and gasps turned to cheers. At the back of the crowd, Fenton wrapped an arm around Gandra.

“Didn’t I say you could have faith in her?” he said.

Gandra smiled, but her expression quickly turned serious again.

Across the courtyard, Magica strode towards Lena and Webby, her face twisted into a livid glare.

“You mock me,” the sorceress hissed. “Get out of the way, Lena.”

“What?” Lena turned to face Magica. Webby was behind her now, sleepily letting her face fall against Lena’s back.

“I said get out of the way.”

“Why? You…” Lena’s face fell. “But… She passed the test.”

“What does it matter?” said Magica. “She cheated, somehow. I don’t care.”

“You said you’d let us get married,” said Lena. “You promised, you –”

Magica raised a hand. Two shadows dove down from the vortex, grabbing Lena by the arms and pulling her away from Webby. Without anyone to lean on now, Webby slumped to the stone floor in a daze. The crowd was silent.

“You’ve forgotten your manners, little Lena,” Magica said. “I’m in charge. And I say that _that_ is no princess. I say that she needs to be punished. Her and anyone else who dares doubt my supreme authority!”

She lifted her scepter. The purple gem at the end flashed.

But there was an even more brilliant flash of pink light, and an enormous ball of fiery energy sent Magica tumbling across the courtyard. The gathered courtesans scrambled to get out of her way, everyone gaping and unable to parse what had just happened –

– but there was Lena, standing tall and free and between Webby and the queen, her eyes glowing white-hot light and her entire form crackling with pink energy.

“_Get away from my best friend, Aunt Magica!_”

Magica shoved herself to her feet, snarling. She raised her scepter and sent another ray of purple light at Lena. But Lena just held out a hand, as though to push the magical beam aside – and deflected it into the courtyard wall, which cracked and crumbled at the impact.

“You dare –!” said Magica.

“You’re not taking Webby.” Lena’s hands balled into fists. Magica took a step forward, and Lena matched it. “For the first time in my life, I have someone, Aunt Magica. And I won’t let you take her from me!”

“Aunt?!” Magica shook her head incredulously. “Do you even realize how ridiculous you sound? You aren’t family. You are nothing!”

Lena extended a fist, sending another ball of pink energy towards Magica. The sorceress queen easily sidestepped it, and the courtiers scattered to avoid first the magical attack, and then the debris of wood and stone as it exploded against the front gate. This was a clash of titans; none dared interfere. Above them all, the shadow vortex swirled and expanded. The eternal twilight over the kingdom darkened into an early night.

“You are less than nothing,” said Magica. “You’ve outstayed your welcome, Lena. It’s high time I undid you – once and for all!”

This time the scepter flashed white light. Lena dove out of the way of Magica’s strike, pulling Webby along with her. They ducked behind the golden throne just in time to avoid a second white strike, which ran across the front of the throne like a harmless flame before dissipating.

The smoke from Lena’s attack was clearing. There was a large gash in the front gate now, the drawbridge broken to pieces and the murky water of the moat visible through the hole. Some of the courtiers made a dash for the opening, only for a row of shadows to rise from the ground, blocking their way.

“Come on out, little shadow…” Magica stalked closer to the dais. “Come out and face your doom.”

Her yellow eyes focused on a quick movement around the corner of the throne. Magica took aim.

Lena stood, her arm drawn back. Magica’s scepter flashed, and the white beam of light shot at her. Lena’s arm came forward, and she threw something into the light, something small and round and at the end of an indestructible chain…

The light hit the dime and was absorbed into it. For a moment the dime hovered in the air, crackling with magical energy. Then there was a brilliant flash of light that forced everyone to blink.

The dime landed in an open palm. The man closed his fingers around it, and then reached up to adjust the crown on his head, shooting a confident smirk across the courtyard at Magica.

“Way to dispel your own spell, de Spell!” he said with a chuckle.

Magica’s eyes widened. “You!”

“It’s the king!” someone exclaimed, and then others took up the amazed, joyous cry – “The king! King Scrooge is back!”

“Uncle Scrooge!” A hidden trapdoor slammed open in the dais, and three young men leapt out to flank the king, all of them facing down the usurper queen.

If the triplets’ arrival shocked Magica as much as it shocked the crowd, she didn’t let it show. Instead she raised her scepter high over her head, and the air filled with swooping, sinister shadows.

But Fenton leapt up onto some rubble from the broken wall, lifting a fist in the air.

“The royal family has returned!” he shouted. “People of Calisota, to arms! For Duckburg! For King Scrooge! For Castle McDuck!”

And something awoke inside the crowd in the courtyard – something that had been poked at by Webby’s cheerful irreverence, and jolted by Lena’s sudden rebellion, and outright shaken by the miraculous appearance of the long-lost royal family.

The citizens of Calisota rushed forward as one to meet the shadows descending upon them, and the brawl began.

* * *

It is difficult to pick out a single consistent narrative in a battle like this, with so many moving parts, in the darkness of a shadow army and the noise of shouts and magical explosions. But in the memory of those who fought that day, moments stood out amongst the chaos.

Gandra Dee threw her gloves to the ground. She sliced through every shadow that came near, her hands flashing with white lightning. Little Bulb ran up to her, and she scooped him up into her palm, her nanites charging his light into a blinding beam that took out even more shadows at once.

Huey pulled Dewey out of the way of a shadow’s grasping hand, and they both threw themselves at Magica. She dropped a smoke bomb, and when the air cleared again it was somehow Louie beneath them, muttering something again under his breath about always ending up on the bottom of their pileups.

Webby pulled herself to her feet, leaning heavily on the arm of the throne and struggling to keep her eyes open. A shadow rose from the ground behind her, thinking itself clever – until Webby’s elbow came backwards, decisively shoving the shadow’s beak through the back of its incorporeal head.

Lena found herself back to back with the king, doing everything she could to keep the shadows at arms’ length. If she had had a heart, it would have been pounding with adrenaline. She’d never exerted herself like this, never reached into herself to find what power lay there. It was exhilarating.

“You kept my family hidden and safe for five years,” Scrooge said over his shoulder. “I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“Since I’m the reason they needed to hide in the first place, let’s call us square,” Lena replied, shoving a magical shadow aside with a force shield.

The king chuckled. “Fair enough.”

The Gizmosuit came barreling out of the castle, and the crowd parted fearfully to avoid getting run over. But Fenton did not flee. He stood, tall and proud, before the oncoming armor.

“Blathering blatherskite!” he called to the heavens. The robotic suit jerked, and then it came apart. Responding to the command of its true master, the Gizmosuit reformed around Fenton, leaving his shadow bare and defenseless.

A cheer came up from the crowd for their kingdom’s knight. Sir Fenton turned, looking down from his new height at the three Beagle Boys. They had backed themselves into a corner, doing more trembling than fighting.

“Go lock yourselves in the dungeon,” Fenton told them, “and release the heroes you imprisoned there!”

“Y-Y-Yes, sir!” Bigtime squeaked, and the Beagles ran off, all too glad to have an excuse to leave the nightmarish melee.

Magica de Spell broke away from the fight, leaping up to stand on the golden throne.

“You think you can win?!” she demanded, her voice echoing across the courtyard. “I am your fate! I am the dark force at the core of all things! I am Magica de Spell!”

A shadow rose up from the ground – and it grabbed Magica’s scepter, yanking it out of her hands.

“You are nothing,” Lena said, and she smashed the purple gem against the stone floor.

There was a great rush of wind. Magica screamed, held rigid in the air over the throne, purple light rushing out of her eyes and mouth and up to the shadow vortex high above.

The little doll in a purple dress and headband on the courtyard wall trembled, and glowed, and grew – and Princess Violet Sabrewing landed on her feet, looking all around in wonder.

“What’s happening?” Dewey said, as one by one, in quick succession, the eleven other dolls turned back into princesses, each landing on ground level next to the last.

“A timid hen devoured a hawk, is what’s happening!” Louie cackled.

The army of shadows hissed in protest, but they all were dragged back to the ground, returning to their owners’ feet. The vortex in the sky faded away to nothing, letting the sunshine through unhindered for the first time in five years.

“She doesn’t have any power without the scepter!” Gandra remembered.

Fenton grinned beneath the Gizmosuit visor. “It’s all coming undone, all her dark deeds!”

On cue, a shimmering portal opened in the air, and two people leapt through – a man and a woman, their hair long and wild, her with a new prosthetic leg and him now with a patch over one eye – but the triplets would recognize them no matter what had changed, and all three cried out and ran forward at the sight of their mother and uncle.

“You’re back!” Dewey sobbed as Della hugged him tightly. “It’s over, we won!”

“Where’s that witch…?” Donald snarled.

Which was when everyone realized that Black Heron had taken advantage of everyone’s distraction to come out of whatever hole she’d hidden herself in during the battle. She was dragging Magica along with her as she ran across the courtyard, towards and through the hole in the drawbridge.

Fenton darted after them, grabbing at Heron – but he was only left holding onto the metal mechanical arm, the rest of her and her sorceress queen having escaped to dive down into the moat.

“Should we pursue, your majesty?” said Fenton.

“Let them go,” said King Scrooge. “They have no power here, not anymore. It’s all come undone, everything she ever created with that scepter’s shadowy power.”

Louie suddenly pulled away from his uncle’s embrace. “Everything she created! Oh, no, Lena!”

All eyes turned to the dais. There Lena sat at the foot of the throne, Webby cradled in her lap. Sure enough, there was something less than solid about her now – and not in the usual way she made use of her two-dimensional shadow form. Her legs were completely blurred into a translucent haze, and the rest of her was slowly following suit.

But she was smiling, as she faded away. Because she was holding Webby, Webby was safe, and that was all that mattered.

Webby’s fingers curled around Lena’s wrist, right next to the friendship bracelet.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she said.

The bracelets began to glow a pale blue light, which spread down Webby and Lena’s arms. Violet stepped up to the dais, putting her hand on Lena’s as well. The rest of the dozen princesses did the same, those unable to get close enough to touch Lena or Webby putting their hands on each other’s shoulders and arms, and the blue light spread out to cover all of them.

In the middle of the glow, as Lena gazed about in confusion, the two bracelets slid off of their respective wrists, twisting together into a knot and floating into Lena’s chest.

The glow faded, and Lena, much to her own astonishment, was still there. She flexed a hand, shocked to find it solid.

“How did you do that?” she said.

Webby rolled her eyes behind heavy lids. “We love you, you beautiful idiot,” she said, finally dozing off in Lena’s embrace.

“You – But I don’t – How could you –” Lena stammered. Her eyes moved from Webby, to the princesses gathered around them, all smiling warmly at her. She turned her head, and there just a few yards away were the boys, and their relieved faces were not pointed at the family they’d missed for so long, but at her. To the side, Fenton and Gandra stood together, and Gandra hardly ever had a smile for anyone, but she had one now looking down at Lena. Even the king, the king she’d held prisoner on a chain around her own neck for so long, had tears in his eyes.

“But you shouldn’t,” Lena tried again, “you can’t, I’m the one who – I’m not even –”

And then she stopped, interrupted by suddenly noticing something that most people are so familiar with that we neither feel nor hear it consciously. But Lena was not familiar with it at all.

Her hand found her chest, her palm taking in the soft, regular rhythm within.

And then Lena did something that no one had ever seen her do before:

She burst into tears.

* * *

As the traveling prince finished his drink, the minstrel sat himself down in the barstool next to him.

“I must admit,” said the minstrel, “it was a fine story you told.”

The prince beamed. “Not the one you thought you knew, now was it?”

“Indeed not. It was quite an entertaining version. Though the ending could use some work.”

The prince shot him an offended expression, which made the minstrel laugh.

“What, you can dole out critique but not take it back?”

“It’s exactly what happened!” said the prince. “And I thought it was a touching finale! And so did _your _audience, I might add!”

“Oh yes, it was plenty heartwarming. But it left so many loose threads untied! Tell me – if you are truly a prince of this faraway land called Calisota – what became of your kingdom after the sorceress’s reign came to an end?”

The prince leaned back in his seat.

“King Scrooge took command of the throne again,” he explained. “Much to Lena’s relief. She didn’t have any interest in being queen. I don’t think Webby did, either. Maybe the two of them will settle down in that swampy kingdom someday, maybe they won’t.

“Anyway, things went back to normal, as much as things were ever normal. We had our family back. Mom started planning out all the adventures she’d take us on, and Huey started planning out weddings. He’s always had sort of a passion for event planning, and there were a _lot _of weddings in the next few months. Fenton and Gandra’s was first. It was sweet.

“Uncle Scrooge was _not _happy with how much of his money Magica had wasted over the years, though, I’ll tell you that. He was a little more relieved once we told him where we’d hid the rest of the treasure. Had us put it all back in the Money Bin. The khopesh never made it into the bin, though. I think Louie stashed it away somewhere before we got the rest of that golden junk out of the mattresses.”

Dewey paused, letting those last few words sink in and thoroughly enjoying the sight of slowly dawning comprehension on the minstrel’s face.

“It’s only cheating if you get caught, you know,” he added.

“It wasn’t the pea?” said the minstrel.

Dewey smirked. “It wasn’t the pea at all.”

The minstrel laughed, waving the tavernkeeper over. “Now _that’s _an ending.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the end of the fic! I have an idea of what musical to add Weblena to next… Perhaps I’ll get to it after I catch up on some of my other works. Thanks for reading, and as always extra thanks for comments and kudos!


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